Another Enemy
by dstrekharrylover
Summary: An AU version of the episode "Enemy Within" where Spock is the one split in half by the transporter glitch...and in the process ends up owing apologies and compensation to virtually everyone he knows, from Kirk on down--but especially Christine.
1. Chapter 1

**Another Enemy**

**By dstrekharrylover**

**Prologue**

Many unusual things had happened to Spock (or he had been witness to them) in the course of his Starfleet service … so many, in fact, that even he had long ago lost count of the exact number. But this latest experience he had just gotten out of, he would declare for a long time afterward that it was the most bizarre in his recollect-tion, if not his entire life. Certainly the most memorable, if not for the best of reasons. Quite the opposite, in fact. He would be making amends to those he had wronged, from Jim on down, for the foreseeable future, at the very least—but to one person in particular … the one who had always loved, trusted and believed in him up to this point. Now he was unsure if she would ever do so again, or if he would ever be able to make it up to her completely. This was the foremost reason he had kept his "bad" side under such strict control—because of the havoc it could wreak if unleashed. Because of this latest experience, it literally had been, big-time … and to think that the Alpha 177 mission had started so routinely!

* * * * *

He had taken a science party down to the planet and they were due to report their findings back to Jim. The daytime temperatures were livable, if somewhat chilly, especially for him—in the high 40s on the Fahrenheit scale … but that wouldn't last much longer. In fact, they only had a few hours to finish up, since it was mid-after-noon, around 1500 hours—and would have to beam up before dark because surface temperatures got down to -120 degrees at night, which would fall around 1800 hours. A short time later he heard someone cry out, then a crash and rumble of loose rocks nearby. He turned around to find Geological Technician Bryan Fisher, their current expert on rocks and soil, gingerly picking himself up from where he had fallen because of the sudden rockslide. Some unusual yellow ore covered his red jumpsuit, but Spock dismissed it for the moment and noted with some concern the blood covering the young man's right palm.

"Are you all right, Mr. Fisher?" he asked as the latter approached him.

"Yes, sir. Just clumsy," Fisher replied sheepishly. "That rockslide caught me off-guard."

"Just the same, it would be logical for you to beam up and have Dr. McCoy treat

you. I will follow shortly, since I must make my report to the Captain," the Vulcan informed him.

"Aye, sir." Fisher awkwardly reached for his communicator and flipped it open, asking to be beamed up. Within the hour, Spock himself had followed, leaving the remaining landing party on the surface to finish up—and that's when everything started to go haywire.

* * * * *

Spock couldn't ever remember having felt dizzy after transporting until now. What was wrong with him? He had barely been able to stagger off the platform without falling down; as it was, Scott had been there to assist him. "Are ye all right, Mr. Spock? Tha' seemed t' be a rough beam-up for ye."

"Indeed," the First Officer found himself answering. "Most unusual. I have never felt dizzy after transporting before."

"It might be jus' a delayed reaction t' the cold planetside," the Chief Engineer suggested. "After all, with all due respect, sir, ye're not used to it."

"Perhaps," Spock returned. "Still, I believe I am recovered now." He still felt light-headed, in fact, but believed he would be able to reach his quarters without collapsing if he was careful.

"Just the same, ah think ah better 'elp ye. It might also be a good idea if ye let Dr. McCoy check ye over, if only t' be on th' safe side."

"Do not leave the transporter unattended very long, Mr. Scott. The remaining members of the landing party could call for transport at any moment."

"Ah'll only be gone a minute, sir," Scott assured him. "Jus' wanna make sure ye'll be taken care of."

The two men left the Transporter Room together … but even as the doors closed behind them, the mechanism activated of its own accord and another figure soon materialized on the pad where Spock had been only moments before. Physically, it was a twin of the Vulcan First and Science Officer, right down to the blue and black Science uniform, but the look on the face and in the eyes was the polar opposite.

This one had the look of a wary, prowling cat, his sensitive ears alert for the tiniest sound and his sharp, cold obsidian eyes darting everywhere about the room, ready to react instantly to any movement. He stepped off the transporter platform and carefully made his way to the door. He jumped back to hide himself when it opened to show several crewmembers passing by outside. The doppelganger waited until the corridor was clear, then slipped out and stealthily made his way to the nearest turbolift. He would decide where to go once he was inside.

* * * * *

Scott returned to the Transporter Room ten minutes later, unaware of what had recently happened--at least for the time being. The mechanism had acted strangely when Fisher had first arrived, but Scott couldn't figure out why. At first it had seemed like a burnout of some kind, but he'd tested it right after and it worked fine. Even at that, after Spock had arrived and acted so strangely, he decided to take it temporarily off-line and see if he could figure out what the problem was. He didn't want to risk transporting anyone else until he was sure it could be done safely.

* * * * *

It took only a few minutes for McCoy to check Spock over after Scott had left him at the door, although he had looked very worried when Scott had related to him what had happened when the Vulcan had first materialized upon beamup from the planet. "Do you still feel dizzy, Spock?" he asked, voice laced with concern.

"Somewhat, Doctor, but otherwise all right," the First Officer assured him.

"Do you think you'll be able to get back to your quarters all right?" McCoy wondered. "I'd still like you to take it easy for the next few hours, maybe even get some sleep--at least until you don't feel dizzy anymore, anyway." The Vulcan frowned at this, but the Doctor smiled reassuringly. "That's not a medical order, Spock, simply a request as a friend."

The FIrst Officer's upswept eyebrow shot up into his bangs, then his face softened and he reluctantly nodded. "Very well, Doctor."

McCoy watched the Vulcan head for the door, once again smiling affectionately at his retreating back but not speaking again until he reached it. "Spock?"

"Yes?" he asked, not turning around.

"Sleep well."

"Thank you, Doctor. I shall try." With that, Spock stepped out the Sickbay doors and was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

After prowling around the lower decks of Engineering and lingering around both the gymnasium to ogle the pretty women he found there—and the Hangar Deck, where the shuttlecrafts were kept—the doppelganger was bored stiff. Wasn't there anything interesting to do on this ship? All anyone seemed to do was work. The most interesting part of his latest excursion was watching the women work out.

He had had no idea there were so many beautiful females on this ship … not to mention so many different hair and skin colors and styles. Humans were truly a fascinating people, to put it mildly. And the women came in many shapes and sizes, too—some tiny, barely coming to his chest; others were tall, almost equaling him in height. Not to mention their full breasts and shapely backsides, hips and legs. He was particularly drawn to a tall, well-built and extremely attractive blonde in a sleeveless V-neck, royal blue French-cut leotard and tights, pale blue leg warmers and blue and white athletic shoes. A royal blue sweatband was around her head, and her hair was held up off her neck with a large gold barrette.

He was especially intrigued to note the perspiration on her forehead and the full, enticing redness of her lips. Her legs went approximately up to her chin, her waist was tiny and her bosom pleasantly full, the low-cut leotard showing them off in a most alluring manner. He couldn't help imagining that beautiful body and those long, slender arms and legs, slick with perspiration, wrapped around his hips … and his body responded accordingly. The one he was ogling was Head Nurse Christine Chapel, but she was too engrossed in her workout to notice the doppelganger's eye on her at the time. She would have been pleased had she noticed, of course, if somewhat surprised, since Spock wasn't generally one to come down to the gym and ogle women while he watched them work out—particularly not her. She had no idea he was already making plans to seek her out. He intended to try sweet talk first, but if that didn't work, he would have to use more forceful means to get her to accommodate him.

Meanwhile, he was positively parched. He needed a drink … and not water, either. He smiled wickedly to himself, remembering something he had done in the fairly recent past, and as a result, knew just where to find the kind of liquid refreshment he wanted.

* * * * *

Spock had never felt so weary in his life. He managed to make it safely back to his quarters, intending to do some "paperwork" before retiring, but instead, was scarcely able to reach his sleeping alcove. He had barely settled onto his bed before he was out like the proverbial light, his last brief, waking thought being that he would actually be taking the Doctor's advice for a change—and that was bound to please McCoy immensely once he found out!

* * * * *

McCoy was surprised to see Spock enter Sickbay again barely fifteen minutes after the First Officer had departed for his quarters. What was he doing back here? The CMO got up from his desk, departing his office to both greet and confront his alien friend.

"Spock, what are you doing back here? Is your dizziness worse? I thought you were going to your quarters to get some sleep."

"I am quite well, Doctor. I have another question for you, however."

"What is it?"

"Remember how I once gave you a bottle of Vulcan whiskey for safekeeping some months ago?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"I would like you to get it out for me. I wish to have some."

"I seem to remember you saying that it needed to be kept under lock and key because of its addictive qualities, that it was even more alcoholic than Human whiskey."

"I am aware of that, Doctor, but I still wish to have it … and have no intention of standing here with you, arguing the point. Kindly retrieve it for me right now!"

This time the Doctor's own brows shot up. Spock out-ranked him, at least technically, but even at that had rarely _ordered_ him to do something—especially not to allow him access to such an intoxicating beverage, which was reportedly so toxic to Humans that even one drink could make them violently ill … and even Vulcans couldn't have more than maybe a couple of drinks before getting as drunk as the proverbial skunk. McCoy also recalled that Spock had warned him to keep it away from him because of the bad effect it had had on him the first time he had tried it … and now he wanted it again? That didn't sound right—or at all logical. Maybe the cold on Alpha 177 had adversely affected Spock's mind; that was the only thing he could think of. Whatever the case, he dared not let Spock have access to the drink. He had never thought he would wish for a phaser, but he did now … and the way Spock was acting, if he used force, there was no way he could stop him.

"I don't think it would be good for you to have it, considering the way you once told me it had affected you. Besides, I'm the only one who knows how to deactivate the force-field I've got it behind, the kind which will deliver a lethal shock to anyone who touches it."

"Open it, Doctor," the doppelganger warned quietly, his teeth clenched and an ominous look in his dark eyes. "_Now_—or else I shall certainly break your neck!"

If McCoy didn't know better, he would have sworn Spock was in _pon farr_, since that was the last time the Vulcan had spoken to him like this, but at this point, his next Time was still years away … and with luck, he would actually be bonded properly by then and the Time resolved as it should. But if this was not his Time, what else could be making Spock act so irrationally?

"All right, all right … if you insist. No need to threaten me," the Doctor gently chided. "Follow me."

The doppelganger followed McCoy to where the more dangerous alcoholic beverages were kept behind the aforementioned force-field. A short time later, McCoy had deactivated the force-field and retrieved the bottle, looking on, stunned, as the Vulcan virtually grabbed it away from him and opened it, drinking directly from the neck. And not just sips, but full, long swallows!

"Spock, that's enough. Give it back to me now," the CMO scolded … which was his mistake.

The doppelganger's face darkened even further. "Do not order me, Doctor. This bottle is my property, and I am leaving with it."

With that, the doppelganger turned on his heel and began to leave. When McCoy reached to stop him, the doppelganger grabbed the Doctor's wrist and threw him against the nearest bulkhead, both knocking him unconscious and breaking his right arm in two places, one of them right above the wrist … not to mention bruising it with his strong grip. The Vulcan doppelganger then left Sickbay, never looking back, periodically taking a swallow of the whiskey as he sought out the tall, attractive blonde in order to satisfy his _other_ craving.

* * * * *

He found Christine's quarters locked, but that proved no problem for him. The Vulcan's "evil twin" simply used his override codes—then hid in her sleeping alcove and waited.


	3. Chapter 3

Christine returned to her quarters at 1600 hours with nothing more planned than a hot shower and a good book. Certainly it wasn't what she would have preferred, but that required a certain very stubborn (albeit very sexy) pointy-eared gentleman's cooperation … and she knew as well as she knew her own name that because of that selfsame stubbornness that it was extremely unlikely that she would get it—at least any time soon. Upon entering her sleeping alcove, she plopped down on her bed to remove her shoes and leg warmers, then reached to remove her sweat-band and brushed away the perspiration which had been beneath it. She had been about to remove her leotard when the doppelganger stepped out from his hiding place. Christine was stunned to see Spock in her quarters—the almost literal embodiment of her dream … but one thing she _hadn't _expected was the whiskey bottle in his hand or the look in his eyes. If he hadn't been Vulcan, it would have been a leer! She had never seen him look at any woman like that, especially not her. She had also never known him to drink alcoholic beverages, at least not in any great quantity.

"Mr. Spock, what are you doing here? Do you need me to do something for you?"

The doppelganger smiled seductively at her. "Just 'Spock' will do here, Christine." He stepped closer and took another swallow of whiskey. "I am not here on ship's business."

"Then what do you want?" she asked, scarcely able to believe that she was actually smelling whiskey on the breath of the one man she had never dreamed would ever touch it! That was the only reason he could be acting like this, she was sure. Certainly he would never do this in his right mind!

"What do you _think_ I want?" he answered her question with a question. "You are too beautiful to ignore any longer, Christine. I have been a fool to do it _this_ long."

"Spock, you're drunk," she observed in a scolding tone. "I cannot take your proposition seriously in your present state."

The doppelganger felt his anger rise. Surely she was not going to refuse him, not when he knew how much she loved him! He had been certain that she would jump at the chance to be intimate with him, whatever the circumstances. "Do you not still—love me? Want me?"

"That's not the issue here," she told him. "The issue is your coming here drunk and not in your right mind. At the very least, _that_ is most atypical of you … not to mention the fact that you would make such a proposition to me to begin with."

"Did you not ever consider I might have needed the drink in order to have the courage to approach you?"

"Spock, Heaven knows this isn't easy for me to say—but I must ask you to leave now. Sober up, and if you still want me, then come back and we'll discuss it."

"I do not wish to discuss it later. I want you _now_," he insisted, forcefully setting down the whiskey bottle and reaching for her.

"Spock, get out of here this minute, or else I will call Security," Christine threatened, hoping she could reach her hypo of sedative and stop him before he assaulted her even as she backed away from him. But she didn't make it; a short time later she found herself backed up against the wall next to her bathroom door with no means of escape. She really didn't want to, but if necessary, she intended to knee him and knock him out that way, then report his atypical and irrational actions … but wasn't given even that much of a chance. The doppelganger's hands clamped on her wrists and held them fast so that she was unable to stop him when he moved in for a passionate kiss.

"Christine, I need you. Please do not make me force you," he murmured between kisses. "Can you not feel how much I need you?" He pressed his lower body close to hers to make her feel his large arousal, beginning to rub himself sensuously against her.

"Spock, please don't," she almost moaned as tears filled her eyes. "I don't have the strength to resist you."

"Then don't," he insisted as his lips moved to kiss her neck even as one hand held both her wrists in order to leave the other free to caress her. "Give me what we both want. I cannot wait much longer."

In spite of herself, Christine was becoming aroused, not only by Spock's nearness but his sexy ministrations. If he kept this up much longer, there would be no need to force the issue. She would fall at his feet and _beg_ him to take her!

"I'm asking you for the last time, Spock. Please leave—and come back when you're sober –if you still want to. I can't let you do this, not now, no matter how much I may want to, because we'd be doing it for all the wrong reasons." She knew her voice had taken on a pleading tone. If he didn't listen to her now, she might as well surrender, because she would be unable to last much longer.

He didn't reply, simply reached to remove her leotard, then swept her up into his arms and carried her to bed, removing the rest of her clothing once there and then his own. Christine's eyes overflowed; this was definitely not the way she'd expected her dream to come true, not with Spock coming here drunk and insistent on having his way with her despite her refusals—but she knew that in his present condition, he was likely to hurt her if she continued to deny him, so she made up her mind to simply submit to him. But she had no opportunity to do even that, for after he reached for the junction of her neck and shoulder, she remembered nothing more.

* * * * *

McCoy woke up with a splitting headache … most likely a concussion—and agony in his right arm. It was obviously broken … and in two places! My God, what had hit him? Oh, yes, Spock had come back to Sickbay and insisted on having his bottle of Vulcan whiskey, making dire threats to his personal safety if he kept denying it to him. McCoy had finally given it to him, then Spock had begun to swill it like it was going out of style. When he had tried to make him stop, Spock had thrown him against the bulkhead and left. He painfully got to his feet and reached for the intercom.

"Jeff, come in here. Now. I need your help." That was all he could do before leaning back in his chair, cradling his broken right arm and wincing at the painful throbbing in his head, like the galaxy's worst migraine. A moment later a stunned M'Benga reached him.

"Len, what happened? You look like you just went one-on-one with a Klingon!"

"Almost as bad." McCoy gritted his teeth to keep from moaning from the pain. "Spock was just in here."

"But I thought he just left," the black doctor remarked as he helped his superior over to a diagnostic bed and helped him onto it.

"So did I—but barely fifteen minutes ago he came back, demanding his whiskey and threatening to break my neck if I didn't give it to him … so I did. He then started swilling it like he hadn't had a drink for a year, backhanding me against the bulkhead when I tried to take it back."

"Good lord," M'Benga exclaimed. "That's not like him at all."

"Tell me about it," McCoy returned. "Damn, but my head hurts! Do I have a concussion, Jeff?"

"I'm afraid so. Fortunately, it's a mild one."

"Even the mild ones can hurt like hell, unfortunately," the seriously injured CMO opined. "How about my arm?"

"I'm afraid it's broken in two places," M'Benga told him. "Just above the wrist and just below the elbow. You're going to need to be on the healing-ray machine for at least four hours. Lucky thing they're clean breaks, or you'd likely lose the use of your arm, at least for a while."

"But why did Spock do it in the first place? God knows we've had our share of disagreements, but he's never struck out at me before—and certainly never drank alcoholic beverages before now."

"I have no idea, Len. The only time I know of that a Vulcan would do such things is the _pon farr_ … and Spock isn't experiencing that at the moment."

"You also realize that we're going to have to tell Jim about this," McCoy reminded him.

"Hopefully _he_ can get Spock to tell him what's wrong with him. Of course, we may also have to make sure Spock can't hurt him if he's still acting the same way."

"If anyone can handle him, it's the Captain," the black doctor murmured as he treated his injured colleague, wondering even as he did so where the Vulcan was now and what he was doing.

* * * * *

Christine was still unconscious when the doppelganger satisfied himself, dressing after he had showered and left her quarters. He walked to the entrance of the sleeping alcove and watched her for a while. With a part of himself he regretted doing what he had done, but most of him had enjoyed her immensely. It would have been preferable if she had been willing (and conscious), but he had been in no condition to accept her refusal. If only she hadn't been so beautiful and desirable! He might have been able to resist her, perhaps even gone to someone else—but as it was, he had to have her, no matter what he had to do to accomplish it. For the time being, he would leave her in peace, but knew he couldn't answer for his actions if she refused him again. In that event, he might even have to hurt her.

* * * * *

M'Benga got McCoy situated on the healing-ray machine before contacting Kirk. The Captain could hardly believe what his ACMO was telling him … Spock had come to Sickbay demanding his bottle of Vulcan whiskey and backhanded McCoy against the bulkhead when the latter had tried to take it from him. Spock had never done anything like that before; that was totally out of character. He would have to have a serious talk with him—and soon!

"How is Dr. McCoy?" Kirk asked.

"He'll be okay, sir, don't worry," M'Benga assured him. "It'll just be a few days before he'll be able to get back to work."

"Tell him I'll be down to see him later," Kirk told him. "Meanwhile, I'd better go see Spock and see if I can find out why he did such a thing."

"Sir, if I may make a suggestion?"

"Fire away."

"Take a Security team, just to be on the safe side, with phasers set on _heavy stun_."

Kirk chuckled. "I'll be all right, Jeff. Spock wouldn't hurt me."

"Sir, I'm serious. The way Spock is now, he's dangerous. Until we find out what caused this, it would be … only logical, as it were … to take the proper steps to protect yourself. _And_ the men."

Kirk sighed. "All right, Jeff, if it'll make you feel better … but sometimes you sound just like Bones in his worst mother-hen mode."


	4. Chapter 4

Spock was understandably stunned and surprised to be awakened from sleep by Jim and a squad of armed Security officers. He had no idea why his friend had done such a thing; surely he knew that he would not hurt him for anything in the Galaxy—at least not if he could possibly avoid it.

"Spock, I need to speak to you. Privately," he said to t he Security squad; they waited outside.

"Of course, Jim." He motioned Kirk inside; the door closed behind him with a soft swish. "What did you wish to discuss?"

"Why did you do it?" Kirk demanded, softly but angrily, so the Vulcan was all too aware of his displeasure.

"Why did I do what?" His surprise was genuine. What was Jim talking about?

"You put Dr. McCoy into his own Sickbay," the Captain bit out, hanging onto his temper by only the barest of threads. "M'Benga called me a short while ago. He said that McCoy has a slight concussion and that his right arm is broken in two places. He's currently on the healing-ray machine, so he'll be okay … no thanks to you. I didn't want to take any serious action until I got your side of the story."

"Jim, you seriously think that _I_ injured Dr. McCoy?" Spock's voice was laced with incredulity and pain. "I assure you, that no matter what our differences, I would _never_ assault the Doctor."

"Then why is our CMO lying in Sickbay seriously injured after a confrontation with an angry Vulcan? M'Benga also said that McCoy told him that you had come in demanding your bottle of Vulcan whiskey, making dire threats if he didn't get it for you, then backhanded him and left with it when he tried to stop you."

"Jim, believe me, I have only been in Sickbay once today. After the Doctor examined me upon my beaming up from the planet, I came directly here, to my quarters, and went to sleep. In fact, I just awakened a short time ago. If you do not believe me, check the DNA readings in my quarters. You will find that I have been here for the past 4.4 hours."

"Then who injured Bones?"

"I have no idea, Jim—but I assure you, it was not me."

"We must have an intruder on board, then … someone with Vulcan strength, and most importantly, someone who resembles you. Are you willing to help find this person?"

"Definitely," Spock assured him. "So if you would allow me to dress, Jim, I will be with you shortly."

But neither of them knew what had happened with Christine yet—and when they did, boy, would things ever hit the fan!

* * * * *

It was while Kirk and Spock (the good twin) were searching for what would turn out to be the latter's bad half (or evil twin) that Scott was testing the transporter mechanism again … but this time with a sample of that strange yellow ore he had seen on Fisher's jumpsuit. He recalled that the transporter had acted up the first time that ore had been in close proximity to it and suspected that something in it was responsible for the machine's erratic behavior as well as Mr. Spock's physical symptoms. Come to think of it, he had been far more agreeable than usual about going to Sickbay. The Vulcan usually fought tooth and nail not to go. This time he had seemed to be as willing to be led as a small child, with only a token resistance. He even considered the possibility of taking a sample of the ore to Sickbay and having them analyze it, but even as he turned from the console to do so, the light on the surface-to-ship intercom began to flash. He turned back and opened it.

"Sulu to _Enterprise_," the Oriental's deep voice said. "We have something to beam up, Scotty."

"Not your party yet?" the Scotsman asked.

"Negative," Sulu dismissed. "We found a dog-like creature which seems to be indigenous to the planet, although our previous scans hadn't detected any life-forms."

"Then it might be a good idea to run tests on the animal to determine if it truly

is native to the planet or not," Scott remarked.

"Exactly why I want it beamed up," Sulu concurred. "So, if you would be so kind—"

What impulse prompted him to call for a large container for live samples, Scott didn't know, but as it turned out, it was a good thing he did; it arrived within moments. It took a few minutes after that for Scott to set the transporter controls, then he energized. Seconds later the small, dog-like creature Sulu had referred to sat on the #1 transporter pad. The Chief Engineer went over to it; it wagged its tail and its antennae quivered with pleasure upon seeing him approach. He petted it and prepared to place it in the container even as the creature licked his hand when the transporter mechanism re-activated and he saw that some- thing else was materializing on the adjoining pad. It turned out to be a duplicate of the animal he held in his arms (at least physically), but he soon noticed a stark difference in the other animal's temperament.

This one was snarling, snapping and growling at him, apt to take his hand off had he been foolish enough to extend it. Scott carefully moved to the intercom and called for assistance. When a young ensign appeared, he handed the docile animal to him and went after the other one after telling him to open the container, telling himself to be ready to close it quickly and latch it—then call the Captain and tell him what had happened. He and the other animal regarded each other warily, the latter still growling low in its throat—ready to lunge and sink its teeth into any part of its antagonist's body which presented itself. Why hadn't Sulu told him they'd found two animals?

He'd had the impression that only one had been found, yet only seconds after the first had come aboard, the second one had appeared. It wasn't until the animal happened to turn its head away from him that Scott acted, grabbing it by the scruff of the neck so it couldn't bite him. With that, he took it over to the container and put it in. Even as he closed it, the animal came back to life, once again snarling, growling and snapping, shaking the container as it attempted to escape. Once that was accomplished, Scott turned back to the ensign and took back the other animal, thanking him for his help before dismissing him. Once he was alone, he called Kirk.

"Sir, would ye please come t' the TransporterRoom? I have somethin' t' show ye that ah think ye'll be very interested in."

"Be right there, Scotty. Kirk out." The Captain flipped his communicator closed and replaced it on his belt.

"I wonder what he could have to show us," Spock remarked.

"I don't know. He didn't say. I guess we'll find out when we get there. Let's go."

* * * * *

Christine woke up in her bed, moaning at the pain of the bruises on her body, some of which were in places they had never been before, but making herself rise to take inventory of herself—if only to make sure she was still in one piece. She felt as though she'd just been hit with a shuttlecraft. Talk about aching all over! She'd never felt so sore in her life, particularly between her legs. She gingerly touched herself there, thankful to note that no blood was on her hand when she withdrew it, although she wouldn't be surprised to find some dried elsewhere on her body at some point, as rough as her assailant had obviously been while she had been unconscious.

How could Spock have come to her as he did, so drunk and insistent on having his way with her? He just wouldn't take No for an answer … and what was worse, the whole thing was so completely out of character for him that it was as though he had been an entirely different person! She didn't want to report this, but had to. She couldn't let even Spock get away with rape. _Especially_ not him—not in his present condition. She felt hot, sticky and grimy, intending to clean up once she had reported this. She carefully made her way to the intercom and opened it, leaving it on audio-only since she was still naked.

"Nurse Chapel to Sickbay," she said, amazed at how her voice came out like a croak.

"M'Benga here," came the reply. "Is something wrong, Christine? You don't sound so good."

"I …" she began, not sure how to explain what had happened with her and Spock last night. It seemed like a cross between a dream come true and her worst nightmare. "Jeff—I … I've been raped!"

M'Benga was too stunned to speak for a time. When he did, he didn't sound much better. "Oh, my God. He's in for it now!"

Christine knew who M'Benga was referring to, but dismissed it for the moment. "Jeff, where's Leonard? I need to talk to him."

"You can't, Chris. At least not for another hour," the ACMO told her.

"Why not?"

"He had a run-in with Spock. too. He left Len with a concussion and a broken arm after demanding his Vulcan whiskey and leaving with it after backhanding him against the bulkhead when he tried to stop him."

"Dear God. Is he going to be all right?"

"He'll be fine, Christine. Don't worry. The thing we've got to do is find Spock before he hurts anyone else."

"Jeff, you're the resident Vulcan expert. What could possibly have set Spock off like this, make him do such irrational things?"

"I have no idea, Christine. Usually Vulcans only act like this during _pon farr_—but Spock isn't going through that at the moment," M'Benga assured her. "We can only hope to cut him off at the pass before he gets himself in serious trouble."

"So do I. Meanwhile, I'm going to clean up, write my report on what happened and be in to see Len once I'm done with it."

"I'll tell him to expect you," M'Benga finished. "M'Benga out. Take care, Chris."

"You, too, Jeff. See you later."

* * * * *

It was not too long after this that Kirk and Spock entered the Transporter Room and soon exchanged questioning looks upon noting the large sample container, as well as the fact it was moving and that ominous sounds were coming from it. He spoke sharply to Scott. "All right, Scotty, I'm here. What do you want to show me?" The Scotsman turned around to face his superiors, holding the dozing dog-creature in his arms. "Where did that come from?" the Captain asked, indicating the animal.

"Sulu called and had me beam it up from the planet," Scott explained. "He believes it may be indigenous to the planet, but thinks we should perform tests to make sure one way or the other."

"Fine," Kirk replied. "What's in the sample container?" He turned toward it and his eyebrows lifted upon noting it was securely latched. "Why is it locked?"

"Don't touch it, sir," Scott warned. "Not if ye value y'r safety."

"Why not?" Kirk demanded, stepping closer and reaching for the latch.

"The animal in there is vicious, sir," the Chief Engineer explained. "It's physically identical t' the one I'm holding, but its temperament is th' polar opposite … as though it's not only a duplicate but an opposite—or an 'evil twin,' as it were."

"How many animals did Sulu say he wanted to beam up?"

"One," Scott supplied. "But shortly after this animal here appeared"—he indicated the animal in his arms—"that second one joined it."

"Were you manning the console for the second one?" Spock put in, his first contribution to the conversation.

Scott thought a moment, then turned pale and replied, "_No_, come to think of it. That thing just seemed to appear out of thin air, an' ah was nowhere near th' console."

"Is there any malfunction which might prompt the transporter to act like that, Mr. Scott?" the Vulcan asked pointedly.

"Not that ah know of, sir, an' ah know virtually everything that could possibly go wrong wit' these babies," Scott assured him.

"Does the transporter work at all?" Kirk inquired.

"Yes, sir, but the way 'tis now, ah don' see any safe way to' bring the landing party up," Scott told him gloomily. "An animal being duplicated is one thing, but what if this should happen to a man?" the engineer speculated ominously.

"Aren't any of the shuttles operable?" The Captain sounded angry and impatient.

"Of course, sir," Scott assured his commander.

"Then we use the shuttles and wear environmental suits in the event you have to take the transporter completely off-line."

"Very well, sir. Oh yes, something else I wanted to mention …"

"Yes?" Kirk prompted.

"Fisher's jumpsuit was covered with some strange yellow ore which reminded me of sulfur, at least in color, when he beamed back up—that was the first time the transporter acted up, as though there'd been a burnout 'r somethin'," Scott continued. "Ah tested it again, though, an' it worked fine."

"Do you think the ore might have had something to do with the transporter acting up, Scotty?"

"It's possible, sir, 'specially since Mr. Spock beamed up a short time later an' has been actin' oddly over since," the Chief Engineer finished.

"Oddly? How do you mean?"

"He seemed … dizzy," was the reply. "He almost stumbled upon getting off the transporter platform. I suggested that he go to Sickbay an' have th' Doctor check 'im over."

"And he went? Willingly?"

"As far as ah know … and that in itself is highly unusual," Scott remarked.

_Tell me about it,_ Kirk thought. _What could have happened to make such a change in Spock?_

The younger Human again exchanged looks with his alien second-in-command. "And you know what happened next, Jim," Spock reminded him.

Kirk merely nodded in acknowledgement, not wanting his friend to pick up any of his lingering doubts just yet. It'd probably be a good idea to get Bones' input and see if he'd found anything which could explain Spock's recent behavior. "Let's go to Sickbay, Spock. I need to talk to Bones."

"All right, Jim," the good half of Spock agreed innocently, blissfully unaware of the aftermath of his bad half's actions awaiting him. "I need to speak with him as well."

Kirk gave him an odd look but didn't reply; the two men simply left the Transporter Room and headed for the nearest turbolift which would take them to Sickbay. All the while, Kirk was unable to help wondering just what Spock's bad half was up to, what else the doppelganger had done and if he had injured or abused anyone else. Because of what he had already seen and heard, the Captain was almost afraid to find out.


	5. Chapter 5

Christine had arrived only a short time before Kirk and Spock, even bringing the now only about one-third full bottle of Vulcan whiskey with her, since the doppelganger had inadvertently left it behind in her quarters, on her table in her living area. M'Benga had gotten the instructions from a now-conscious McCoy and replaced it behind the force-field for safekeeping. The Head Nurse was now sitting beside the Chief Surgeon's bed and talking softly to him so as not to aggravate his concussion. McCoy couldn't help noting that Christine looked pale and tired, her eyes full of both physical and emotional pain, but couldn't talk for long because of the pain in his head, although his arm was all but healed now, if somewhat stiff. He just needed to exercise it as much as possible over the next few days so it would be as good as new again. He wished he could say the same about his poor head. The Doctor knew he would be having bad headaches for at least the next week and would have to stick to light duty for a while.

But at least his pain was only physical. Chris was probably going to need counseling for weeks, if not months, to come in order to be able to put hers behind her after Spock's sexual assault of her—and what's more, doing it while stinking drunk! Once he felt up to it, he was going to give that bone-headed Vulcan a piece of his mind. There was no need to have forced the issue with Christine; no need to have traumatized her so, both physically and emotionally. Spock was all too aware that she loved him and would have come to him willingly … but even then, only for the right reasons.

It was then that he heard Jim calling to him. "Bones, are you awake? Can I talk to you?"

Christine tensed, but didn't move until Kirk came through the door—and then bade McCoy a hasty farewell once she saw Spock beside the Captain. "See you later, Len. Take care." Her atypical actions were not lost on any of the three men present, although the Doctor was the only one who knew precisely why she had acted the way she did.

Spock couldn't imagine why Christine would take off like that upon his simply entering a room; it was as though she was expecting him to attack her. He had no idea how right he was, but for the moment, concentrated on McCoy and what he knew would be a half-baked attempt at an apology at best, but he knew he had to at least make the effort, even if the Doctor was skeptical of him and his sincerity.

"How do you feel, Bones?" Kirk remarked, smiling warmly at McCoy in greeting.

"I'll be okay, Jim. Just have headaches for a few days, that's all." Then the CMO noticed Spock and a wary look came into his eyes. "I had M'Benga put the whiskey away behind the force-field; you won't be able to backhand me again."

"Doctor, I am so very sorry this has happened to you," Spock apologized profusely and sincerely.

"You could have fooled me," McCoy returned softly but skeptically. "Thanks to you, I had to spend four hours on the healing-ray machine and will have headaches for at least a week."

"Doctor, I assure you it was not I who attacked you. I left Sickbay and returned to my quarters, then slept for 4.4 hours, per your recommendation. I did not return here at any time."

"Spock, I want to believe you, but I have to say that just a few minutes after you left, your twin brother—since you insist it wasn't you who attacked me—came back and demanded the bottle of Vulcan whiskey and practically grabbed it away from me, then began to swill it like it was going out of style. I tried to get it back, but was backhanded against the bulkhead and knocked cold, not waking up until half an hour later, calling M'Benga to treat me."

"Doctor, I can only reiterate my most abject apologies that you were so badly injured … as well as my word that no matter what our differences, I would _never_ willingly attack you—or Jim—physically. You are my closest friends. I would sooner injure myself. Please believe that, for it is true. I swear it on my life and sacred honor as a Vulcan." He gently took McCoy's hand and held it after sitting down beside him on the bed.

McCoy carefully moved his head up to meet Spock's large, brown puppy-dog eyes and saw the heartfelt sorrow and sincerity (perhaps even tears) there. He didn't think he could deal with that, so he said, "All right, Spock, I believe you … but I'm not the only one you have to convince."

"What do you mean, Doctor?" He was genuinely surprised at McCoy's comment.

"You remember how Christine acted when you arrived," the Doctor remarked.

"Yes. Why?"

"She was—sexually assaulted earlier today, Spock. Brutally so … and she swears that you did it after nerve-pinching her, despite her multiple refusals--and to top it off, you were drunk as the proverbial skunk!"

This time the Vulcan's face took on a look of pure horror. "I understand why she ran, but I swear again that it was not I who attacked her. I would never allow myself to become intoxicated via alcoholic beverages. It has to be my … evil twin," he returned quietly.

McCoy was hard-pressed to keep from laughing. "Come on, Spock, that isn't even original!"

"But nonetheless true," the First Officer insisted. "You recall how oddly I was acting after I first beamed up from the planet?"

McCoy nodded slightly, so as not to jar his sore head too much.

"Mr. Scott discovered that a strange yellow ore which had covered Geological Technician Fisher's coverall has affected the operation of the transporter, to the effect that if anyone or anything attempts to beam up or down, it or they will be duplicated—or more precisely, cut in half, so to speak, into a good half and a bad half. It was obviously my 'bad half' who attacked you and Miss Chapel."

"Then Jim and I may assume that we are in the presence of your 'good' half," McCoy softly remarked, then winced and closed his eyes in pain.

"Yes."

Spock felt his eyes filling with unbidden tears and now suspected that whatever his bad half did, he would be the one most affected by it. That was mostly why he had been so weary earlier, as a result of the bad half's assault on Christine, and why he was feeling so nauseous now, like he had the Galaxy's worst hangover. Just how much of that whiskey had his bad half ingested, anyway? It also seemed that he, the 'good' half, had the majority of the emotion he had fought against his entire life, whereas the 'bad' half must have most of the logic. In spite of himself, Spock could not help a Pre-Reform Vulcan oath, followed by one of his mother's favorite Human ones. How was he ever going to straighten matters out when he was so wracked with emotion and so little logic, when logic was what he needed most? Also, how would he ever be able to convince Christine of the truth? If it wasn't happening to him, he wouldn't have believed it himself.

It was then that he excused himself because his stomach was churning dangerously and he had to reach a sink before he humiliated himself in front of his friends. He stood up quickly and ran for the nearest bathroom to duck inside, violently ill for several minutes before he finished. A moment later, he staggered back, weak as a kitten, and found him-self propped up by the strong arms of his closest friend.

"Thank you, Jim," he murmured with quiet gratitude.

"No problem." Kirk smiled. "But why are you so ill? I thought you looked paler than usual, but I thought you were just tired."

"Because of my bad half's ingestion of so much Vulcan whiskey," he explained. "I have determined that whatever my bad half does, be it physical exertion or the drinking of alcoholic beverages, it will affect me the most adversely."

'That's all you need right now," Kirk returned dryly. "To have to deal with that on top of being almost literally torn in half."

"Indeed," the Vulcan concurred. "I—wish there was something I could say which would convince Christine and the Doctor that I was not the one who attacked them."

"I don't think they're in any mood to listen to the voices of reason right now, Spock," Kirk returned gently. "For the time being, simply keep a respectful distance from them, and when the time is right, we'll go to them together. They're fairly rational people most of the time, so I think there's a pretty good chance that they'll at least hear us out."

"How will I know when the time is right?" he wondered as he reached for a towel and moistened it before patting his face with it so his temperature would cool down slightly. "I would also like to have something to take the vile taste of the whiskey out of my mouth."

"No problem," the Captain assured him again. "We'll let Bones get some rest now, then go back to your quarters so you can do the same. How about having M'Benga give you something to make sure you sleep? You're probably not going to be able to induce sleep for a while. We'll resume the search for your bad half once you wake up."

Spock was dubious as to how much good that would do him, but seemed to have lost a good deal of his normally strong will … so he went along with his friend's suggestion. He could only hope that his bad half wouldn't do much more for which he would have to be the one to make amends before he could locate him and attempt to devise a means of rejoining with him. However distasteful the idea of rejoining might be. Even as much as he dreaded the prospect, it was necessary. One could not live long as half a person, and no one knew it better than he did.

"Did you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?" Kirk asked upon returning with a drink of _kahlin_ for Spock.

"It would be very much appreciated, Jim," the Vulcan replied softly—so softly that it was almost a whisper, once h e had finished drinking the Vulcan citrus drink.

"Gladly."

With that, they made their farewells to McCoy and headed back up to Officers' Country and their respective quarters. Kirk waited patiently while Spock prepared himself, then sat next to his ill and weary friend, holding his hand until the drug he had been given kicked in and Spock's grip slackened and he was sleeping peacefully, at least for the moment. He covered the Vulcan with a blanket, then made his way to the bathroom door and told the lights to go out, leaving only the flame-pot burning in the corner.

_Sleep well, my friend, _he projected mentally. _You're going to need all the rest you can get. I also hope you don't feel so ill in the morning … but most of all that we can manage to corner your bad half before he wreaks any more havoc that_ you'll _have to pay for._

* * * * *

But even while the 'good' half of Spock slept, the 'bad' half was plotting even more devil-ment. By the time he got through, his goody-goody other half was going to have his hands full for at least the foreseeable future attempting to straighten out everything he, the doppelganger, had begun. Things Spock had never been known to do before and that the 'good' half was unlikely to ever live down. If the doppelganger had his way, Spock would be fortunate to have any standing left, either with Starfleet, the Federation or even his own parents. For the time being, though, the doppelganger considered it logical to keep a safe distance from McCoy and the others in the upper echelons aboard ship, especially Kirk. After all, there was plenty of lesser crew with whom he could amuse himself by subtly (and not-so-subtly) terrorizing them in one way or another—and they would be afraid to cross him, mainly because of who and what they believed he was.

The male crewmembers anyway; the females would likely fall all over themselves to please him since the majority had mad crushes on him. It wouldn't surprise him, in fact, if he could make Spock seem like the next thing to the Human Casanova, rivaling even the _Enterprise_'s own resident Lothario, Captain Kirk, in less than a month. Maybe even a week … that is, if he could keep his meddling 'good' half from throwing the proverbial monkey wrench into his plans. In which case, he would need to use the knowledge and expertise gleaned from his 'good' half to make sure that didn't happen, whatever he had to do.


	6. Chapter 6

But what the "evil twin" didn't know was that the Captain had been quite busy himself. No one knew Spock better, so Kirk would be the one most likely to know how to counteract whatever the 'bad' half of Spock might conjure up. In the midst of all this, however, Kirk had to get his people off Alpha 177 before they froze to death. He had originally put Spock in charge of that away mission, but at the moment (to put it mildly) the Vulcan was no condition to continue in that capacity, so he placed Spock's immediate subordinate, one Lieutenant William Hadley, on it with strict orders to report to him—and _only_ to him—with their findings once the landing party was back aboard. He would schedule a debriefing ASAP upon their return.

In the meantime, he was wracking his brain trying to think of ways to stay one step ahead of the "evil twin". However different in temperament and thought patterns, the doppelganger still had all the Vulcan's knowledge and expertise at his command. The idea of that brilliant brain, that incredible, genius-caliber mind, being used for such twisted purposes frightened Kirk beyond all reason. Not even Mirror Spock had been like this … because whatever his other faults (and his Vulcan warrior training aside), Mirror Spock had still had at least _some_ scruples. As far as Kirk could tell, the 'bad' half of his own Spock stood in stark contrast; he didn't seem to have any scruples whatsoever—and that made him far more dangerous than even the Klingons or Romulans. The Captain could only hope that Spock's 'good' half would be able to keep the 'bad' half's escapades at least more or less in check … but even if they managed that, how long could they keep it up? And worst of all, how long would they be able to keep it from the Galaxy at large?

* * * * *

Christine Chapel sighed in relief as she stepped inside her quarters door and carefully locked it. Not that that would stop you-know-who for long, despite the fact that she had changed her door code to be on the safe side. But she had jumped at every opening of the Sickbay doors and was poised to run like hell if Spock showed his face anywhere near her during her morning shift.

She was relieved and thankful that today's shift had passed without incident, even though she had no idea how long this quiescent period would last. Even at that, she intended to enjoy every moment of it while it did. It had taken her a long time to fall asleep that night after the trauma of her sexual assault; in fact, she had had a nightmare that it had happened again. Around 0300 she had awakened in a cold sweat and trembling, sitting bolt upright in bed after having screamed herself awake. If this happened again, she would likely need a sedative or something in order to get any sleep. As it was, she was likely to need counseling for months to come since she got jumpy and nervous whenever any man was near her, even McCoy, who was still in no condition to have done anything to her even if he had been so inclined—not after what the 'bad' Spock had done to him. Whatever faults Leonard McCoy had, forcing himself on women wasn't one of them.

Of course, to be fair, she doubted that Spock would have done it had he been in his right mind, but that didn't make the experience any less traumatic for her. What could possibly have motivated him to do such a thing? She had frankly never believed him capable of it, much less of assaulting a woman while intoxicated. It would have been bad enough for someone else to have done it, but it had been Spock. Oh, dear God, how she wished that it had been someone—_anyone_—else. Anybody but Spock! She had always looked forward to her times working with Spock, much less the times they happened to meet by chance … or the times she had cleverly finagled to make it _seem_ like chance meetings—at least at first glance. But now she lived in dread of seeing him again. That made things even worse, especially since this desire was warring with the fact that she still loved him in spite of it all.

Even at that, she was now deathly frightened of what he might do should they ever be alone for any length of time and she had no means of escape or no other people in the room with them. She was unsure if she could ever feel safe around him or trust him again. She was even considering asking Nyota to spend a few nights with her, if not posting an armed guard outside her quarters door at night … at least until they'd figured what was the matter with Spock and (hopefully) cured him. Not that she wanted to risk either her friend or anyone else's safety, but Christine simply didn't feel safe by herself any more, not even in her own quarters.

* * * * *

Scott still couldn't figure how in the universe that that strange, sulfur-colored ore could have affected the transporter the way it had, separating living beings into good and evil halves. It was bad enough what had happened to the dog-creature, but now he was all but convinced that it had happened to Spock, for he couldn't explain the First Officer's recent inexplicable, atypical behavior any other way. If the things he suspected were true, how could they ever reunite the two halves? There had to be a way—but Scott couldn't think of one to save his life. Even as intelligent as he was, he was no doctor or scientist. Just the same, he was sure that no one could live for long as half a person or animal. However undesirable the traits the bad side showed, it was obviously necessary (if not vital) for them to be reunited in order to be complete.

In higher animals and sentient beings, their intelligence usually won out over their primitive fear instinct, but their one experiment so far had only been partially success-ful. They had been able to reunite the two halves of the dog-creature, yet when it had re-materialized, the trauma of reuniting had been fatal to it. For that reason, they had been understandably hesitant to try it on a person (specifically Spock) in the event that that was truly what had happened to him. How did they dare risk losing him by trying again? He was far too valuable, both to Starfleet and emotionally to his friends and family. Unfortunately, if they didn't, they would lose him for sure. A plan born of desperation had begun to form in Scott's mind. It was fraught with risk, but all agreed that Spock's value to them outweighed the potential consequences once they decided to conduct the experiment.

They would pay far more dearly by _not_ trying, however, so in spite of their grave misgivings, they would have to go through with it in order to have any chance whatsoever of reuniting the Vulcan's two halves and bringing Spock back to himself, making him a whole person again. The only problem now was finding his 'bad' half …

* * * * *

Spock (the good half) was pleased--albeit surprised--to awaken without incident, thankful that his bad half hadn't decided to take him hostage or something during the night. He and Jim were due to resume their search for the doppelganger after their duty shifts today; Spock only hoped they could find him soon. Otherwise everyone aboard ship was in danger, including himself and Jim. So far there had been no further incidents of rape and/or physical injury (at least none that he had heard about), but he was convinced that it was only a matter of time before he did. He could only hope it wouldn't be too serious, since he already had several people he would need to make amends to as it was. For the time being, he had to attempt to second-guess … well … himself … or more precisely, his "evil twin", and figure out where he had sequestered himself.

There was a definite connection between them, so maybe—just maybe—it would be possible to deduce where on the ship they would find his other half, because both halves still had access to all the knowledge in his mind. Henceforth, it was not only likely but virtually certain that he, the good half, would be able to direct Jim and a Security squad to corner his "bad half". They would then take him into custody and devise a means of reuniting them. But first, they had to _find_ the doppelganger—and with the Vulcan's knowledge of the ship at his command, that might be easier said than done. Then Spock had a flash of inspiration: where would _he himself_ go to elude a mass search? Even if it was unsuccessful, it was a logical place to start.

* * * * *

As it turned out, he was right about it being easier said than done, even with the edge he had. The doppelganger seemed literally as elusive as the wind; they kept hearing about where he had been, but he was never there when they arrived … and nine times out of ten there was a message from at least one of those who had encountered him (usually told to them as they were lying in Sickbay or convalescing in their quarters) of a taunting nature, daring them to find and capture him even while declaring that they never would. It frankly wouldn't surprise Spock if his "evil twin" decided to attempt to corner him while he was alone with no means of calling for help—perhaps even try to kill him—but by this time he knew he could not allow that to happen, because no one could live for long as only half a person … and if that happened, the doppelganger himself would soon die. Not that that would matter to him as long as he got his meddlesome "good" half out of the way. Neither would he have any compunctions about killing Kirk or any of the other crew if they got in his way. As a result, Kirk had ordered that everyone wear hand phasers on their persons, locked on the _heavy stun_ setting.

He had also granted Christine's request that an armed guard stand outside her quarters around the clock, as well as having Uhura stay with her, at least for the time being. It got so Christine only came out of her quarters for her duty shifts, and even then a guard discreetly shadowed her, although she didn't know this—but McCoy did. He was back on the job and kept an eye on her too, as much as possible, as did M'Benga. Nowadays it was usually all Spock could do to get through his duty shifts because all the physical exertion by the doppelganger tired him. He could (but didn't want to) imagine what his bad half could be doing, making sure to keep himself as busy as possible so he didn't have the chance to think about it, particularly since he didn't seem to have the access to his mind disciplines that he had once had—at least it was far more difficult to even meditate than it had ever been before.

But he couldn't afford to let anything deter him from finding his other half and reuniting with him; in fact it was imperative that he did so, for McCoy had already warned him that he would soon die if he didn't—within a matter of days, in fact. Even as difficult as his life was, Spock wasn't ready for that and wouldn't be for decades to come—so even if the doppelganger didn't think he needed the good half, the good half knew that he needed the doppelganger … and soon!

It saddened him when he learned that Christine had asked for an armed guard at her quarters around the clock, not to mention having Uhura stay with her. He couldn't blame her, but knew he had to at least attempt to explain the situation to her as soon as it was resolved … if it ever could be. In fact, he was sure it would take months, if not years (even with counseling) for her to even begin to put this emotional trauma behind her. The worst part of the whole thing was the feelings he was beginning to develop for her. Part of it was physical desire, but mostly it was warmth and tenderness and a wish for her to be a permanent part of his life. But there was no way for him to even try to explain this fact to her until the doppelganger had been taken care of. For the time being, all he could do was keep a respectful distance from her and do all in his power to make amends to her as soon as possible.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating, but my computer's been down for the last several weeks--yes, weeks!--and I just got it back a few days ago...so I'm giving you two installments of this fic to make up for it. Enjoy!_

After a typically exhausting day which was no less successful in finding his other half, Spock had to literally force his feet to carry him to his quarters. Both Kirk and McCoy had told him to contact them if he needed help but he didn't want to do that unless absolutely necessary. His current plans involved a quick sonic shower, then falling into bed. Unfortunately for him, his bad half had other plans (and although he didn't know this yet, he would, very soon).

Once behind the door of his private domain, he leaned against it after it had closed, allowing himself a sigh of relief that he was out of the reach of prying eyes. Only at those times did he generally allow himself even a slight lapse in his control. He slowly made his way to his sleeping alcove, intending to undress and head for his bathroom—but what he saw upon reaching it was so appalling that all thoughts save one … getting rid of the disgusting items … were gone from his mind.

Virtually everywhere he looked, it seemed, were pornographic holoprints—not only of Vulcan women, but Human and even Romulan and Andorian women, in virtually every conceivable (and some _in_conceivable) sexual pose. Neither were they always alone! He knew there were such things on the computer network, but had never availed himself of them for obvious reasons … yet now here they were, plastered all over his quarters wall —and he could guess who had put them up!

As if this wasn't bad enough, he now sensed that he was being watched, if only to see what his reaction would be, so despite his weariness, he was now on the alert for virtually anything coming from virtually any direction … but nothing happened, at least not for the next half hour or so, until he had gotten on his computer and found even more disturbing (and lewd) things. These were even worse than the things on the wall; these showed couples, sometimes both of the same sex, and occasionally even different species/races … and worst of all, when he had checked his personal mail, he found communications from not only Starfleet Command but _both_ of his parents, all concerning these very same pornographic things. As if he didn't have enough to worry about!

After half an hour, he couldn't bear any more and vowed to erase everything at the first opportunity … but could only pray to his ancestors that he would be able to explain matters to Command and his parents. He frankly dreaded opening his father's missive and told himself to save that for last; it was going to be difficult enough explaining matters to the others! But just as he was about to power down, something else caught his eye. When he opened it, it turned out to be an amateurish attempt to write erotica, and worst of all, it involved not only himself but Christine and Jim in a threesome, the infamous _ménáge a trois_ sexual act! It was so graphic that it almost made him physically ill and he vowed to get rid of it too as soon as he could.

How was he ever going to straighten out all the trouble his bad half had caused? Even if they were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, he would still be fortunate to still have any career in Starfleet, much less any respect or standing even on the ship, much less anywhere else in the Galaxy. And how many people had seen them besides him, those at Command and his parents? He didn't want to think, but unfortunately would have to at some point. By this time his sense of being watched was so strong as to be almost irresistible. He finally called out, "All right, my evil twin, come out! I know you are here. Come out, I command you!"

There was no response for a time, then he felt the coldness of metal on the back of his neck, knowing it was the muzzle of a phaser pressed against it; he then heard a silky but dangerous voice speaking to him. "How do you like my … redecoration?"

"I do not," he opined. "These items are totally lewd and thoroughly pornographic. You will take them down immediately!"

"Why? Too exciting for you?" the doppleganger taunted.

"That is not your concern," Spock returned coldly. "Just do it—or I will!"

"What will you do if I don't? Call for help?" The phaser was pressed even tighter against his neck. "I think not … not if you want to remain alive."

"I need no help to deal with such as you," the Vulcan snapped back angrily.

"Tsk, tsk. Such emotionalism. What would your father say?"

"I will deal with him. Now do as I say!"

The doppleganger made no move. "After you deal with Starfleet Command and your friends aboard ship? Not to mention your beautiful blonde nurse?"

"You will leave them alone," Spock declared, surreptitiously opening the line between his quarters and Jim's, hoping against hope that his friend was there. Otherwise he had little chance of coming out of this encounter intact or alive. "You have done enough to them!"

"I have never understood why you chose to serve with Humans," the bad half said. "They're only good for two things—a slave and a roll in the hay!"

"How many have you abused?" Spock demanded.

"You really think I'm going to tell you? I prefer to let you find out over time," the doppleganger replied contemptuously. "You're so soft, weak and emotional that you disgust me—all your gentleness and kindness, your peace-mongering, merciful ways ..."

"They have been followed by the Vulcan people for millennia," the good half informed the bad half.

The doppleganger almost snorted. "It's a wonder the race ever survived. By the way, I can imagine what you thought of that story I wrote."

"It is … sick, twisted and nauseating," Spock informed his evil twin. "I intend to delete it at the first opportunity."

"Oh? Have you never considered the possibility of such a relationship?" Again the doppleganger taunted him. "I find the idea most exciting."

"I never have and I never will!" Spock declared quietly but vehemently.

"That's your loss," came the almost sad reply. "Because you'll never know what you're missing… and worst of all, you won't care."

"I have better things to do than peruse pornography and send it around to those I am related to or work with. Because of you, I am unsure that I will ever be able to straighten everything out completely," Spock returned in a scolding tone.

"Now I think I have some idea why your halves were always in such conflict. You always preferred your weak, emotional side to your strong, logical side, no matter how it may have appeared to others."

"I consider the ability to feel emotion a strength, not a weakness," Spock declared. "It is the _mis_-use of emotion, which you have done, which is the weakness you speak of."

"Another thing," the doppleganger continued, as if his other half had not spoken. "You're a fool to continually keep that lovely nurse at both a physical and emotional distance. She would be a most logical wife for you; you should have married her a long time ago. Instead, you spend the majority of your time either with your male friends—specifically, the Captain—or working. One would almost think that you prefer men to women."

"I need no advice from you on how to conduct my personal life," Spock bit out. "Besides, Jim is my friend, nothing more."

"Neither do I need your goody-goody influence on me," the doppleganger retorted, ignoring the good half's last statement. "You're the reason I was never able to have any fun."

"I have noticed what you consider 'fun'. I cannot allow it to continue. Besides, you cannot kill me. We need each other," Spock informed him.

"I don't need you," the doppleganger repeated. "In fact, I think I'll get rid of you right now in order to prove my point." He pressed the phaser further into Spock's neck, finger tightening on the trigger.

Both were too occupied to have been aware that Kirk and an armed Security squad, along with McCoy, were stealthily creeping up on them. They only needed a few more moments and they would be able to capture him. _Keep it up, Spock,_ he silently told his friend. _We just need a few seconds more._

"How long do you think you will live without me?" Spock asked. "Dr. McCoy has told me that we cannot live apart for more than a matter of days."

"Doctors can be wrong … particularly Human doctors," the doppleganger dismissed. "And if you say one more word, it will be your last. I've heard all I care to hear from you."

Fortunately those extra few seconds were all Kirk and the others needed. Spock's eyes widened when he felt the phaser move away from him and heard the slump of a body hitting the floor. He had never been so happy in his life to see McCoy, not to mention Kirk. "Are you all right, Spock?" the latter asked, his voice heavy with concern.

"It was a near thing. I wasn't sure if we were going to make it in time to stop him or not," McCoy put in.

"I am … most pleased that you did, Doctor," Spock replied, too relieved at his deliverance from death to immediately recall the pornography plastered all over his sleeping alcove. When he did, all he could hope for was that McCoy would keep his mouth shut and that Jim would take steps to ensure that the Security squad kept their silence.

"And I want you all to remain silent about what you have seen here," Kirk told everyone. "If I hear even one peep and discover who talked, that person is going to regret ever setting foot aboard the _Enterprise. _Mr. Spock has been through enough without malicious gossip adding to it." _Not to mention the ones his bad side has injured,_ the Captain added silently. "Have you got the doppleganger secured?" he asked the Security squad.

"Yes, sir," the squad leader replied.

"Very good. Take him to Sickbay, then make sure to restrain him—and have two guards posted on either side of his bed until we figure a way to reunite him with you, Spock," the Captain ordered. "And we'd better do it fast, judging from what you told me, Bones."

"Amen," McCoy concurred. "Let's go, now. That shot I gave will only last a few minutes with that Vulcan physiology of his."

With that, Kirk told the Security squad to take the doppleganger to Sickbay and get him restrained; he and the others would join them shortly. Once they were gone, the two Humans turned back to their alien friend. "Will you need help getting to Sickbay, Spock?" the Captain asked.

The First Officer didn't want to admit it, but had to. He was simply too weary to make it on his own because of his "evil twin's" actions. "It would be … appreciated."

"Would you like a shot to strengthen you, Spock?" McCoy asked.

"Unnecessary, Doctor. I need only your and Jim's assistance."

"Okay, fine," McCoy conceded. "Let's go, then." He took his place on the Vulcan's left side upon bringing him to his feet with Kirk's assistance. Once they had turned for the door, Kirk took Spock's right arm and the two Humans helped their Vulcan colleague and friend out of his quarters and to the nearest turbolift. Kirk and McCoy's implacable faces silenced any comments on the lips of the crew they passed en route.

It took only a few minutes to get to Sickbay, and upon arrival, the Humans placed their friend on the nearest biobed, noticing that the Security squad had secured the doppleganger on the third bed down from them and that he was still unconscious—but if what McCoy had said earlier was true, he would be waking up soon. Only when he was lying down and in the presence of his two closest friends did the Vulcan allow himself to be injected with a stimulant.

"Have you any ideas as to getting your other half reunited with you, Spock?" Kirk wondered as he stood on the right side of Spock's bed.

"I believe we will have to utilize the transporter," the First Officer made himself say.

"But the transporter doesn't work," the Doctor reminded him.

"I beg to differ, Doctor," Spock replied. "It will require some adjustments and re-routing of power, but it should work."

"In that case, we'd better call Scotty here so that Spock can explain things to him," Kirk opined—then turned to the wall communicator nearby and did just that.


	8. Chapter 8

To no one's real surprise, Scott agreed with Spock once the Vulcan had explained how to go about making the necessary adjustments to the transporter; the only problem now was how long it would take to do it … and their lingering uncertainty as to whether or not it would work. Even if it did, how could they be sure there would be no adverse after-effects? They couldn't—but whatever their misgivings, it had to be done, and soon, or else they would lose Spock for sure. There was only a matter of hours now (less than twelve, in fact) before at least one, if not both, halves of him would die.

"How do we get the 'evil twin' to the Transporter Room? Sedate him again or what?" Kirk wondered.

"Not only that, Jim, but take the guards with us and put some energy cuffs on him, if only to be on the safe side," McCoy informed him, leaving the room to get the necessary hypo of sedative, then Kirk ordered the guards to subdue the doppleganger with energy cuffs after the Doctor had re-sedated him, then everyone headed for the Transporter Room to carry out what was likely to be their riskiest gamble ever.

* * * * *

They managed to make it there without incident, but the adjustments Spock wanted were extremely delicate and consequently took more time than any one of them felt comfortable in taking, for several reasons … and even then, wouldn't last long, so this idea of his had better work—and work the first time! McCoy also insisted on giving Spock an injection of a mild stimulant which would give him the necessary strength and energy to not only reach the Transporter Room on his own but manage the reunion of his two halves before he would allow him to leave Sickbay. The Vulcan was naturally reluctant to accept it, but was even more reluctant to show his weakness in front of any more of the crew than he already had.

After two of the longest hours of their lives, where the guards kept a sharp eye on the doppleganger, ready to stun him with a phaser blast should he wake up, Scotty finally completed the adjustments and Kirk helped Spock position his unconscious doppleganger in his arms after he had stepped onto the transporter pad. Once that was accomplished, the two friends' eyes met with a mixture of love and apprehension. "Good luck, Spock. I hope this works."

"I believe it will, Jim," the First Officer tried to reassure his Captain and friend. "But we will only know for certain one way or the other within the next 1.2 minutes." He then met Scott's eyes as the Chief Engineer stood poised to activate the mechanism, the performance of which during the next short span of time would determine whether or not he would survive, not only past this day but live his designated life-span, whatever that turned out to be. "Energize, Mr. Scott."

* * * * *

It was only the 1.2 minutes that Spock mentioned which had passed in real time, but it had seemed like the proverbial eternity before Scott reversed the mechanism to bring Spock back, hopefully alive, in one piece, and best of all, reunited with his "evil twin" again. All present were unaware they had been holding their collec- tive breaths until the Vulcan re-materialized on the platform … and as a single individual this time!

No one dared speak, and for that matter, hardly dared breathe, until they knew how the risky operation they had just performed had turned out. Kirk was the first to find his voice. "Spock …?"

Spock allowed himself a half-smile at the other three Humans, particularly the one closest to him. "You may resume breathing, Jim, Doctor, Mr. Scott. I am whole once again."

But even as the First Officer prepared to step off the platform, McCoy found his voice and rushed over, medical tricorder in hand, to check him. "Don't you move an inch, Spock—not until I've checked you thoroughly!"

"Really, Doctor. I am fine," Spock insisted.

"Let me be the judge of that," McCoy countered, already beginning to run his tricorder up and down his Vulcan friend and colleague's body. Several minutes passed before the Chief Surgeon reluctantly pronounced him fit.

"But we have no idea how the reunion is going to affect you in the long run, so I would advise you not to do anything too strenuous for at least the first few days after this—and that includes Bridge duty. And as of this moment, I am officially designating Jim as your watchdog and giving both of you a medical order to report to me anything you may do, think … _or feel _… that either of you may consider unusual." There was such authority in the Doctor's voice that neither of the two command officers deigned to argue with him, although both certainly wanted to.

"Well, at least now all you've got to worry about is how you're going to explain things to your parents, Starfleet Command … and most importantly, Christine," Kirk remarked quietly as the two friends headed for the Transporter Room doors.

"I know," came the almost-too-quiet reply. "And there are so many. Some are going to be … extraordinarily difficult, too, so I will—need your help … and that of the Doctor."

"You've got it," Kirk assured him … but was sure that his friend was due for more nasty surprises over the next several weeks not only in the form of other crew which his doppleganger had used and abused aboard ship—including his two closest friends—but his biggest concern was Christine. After what his bad half had done to her, how could he ever expect her to allow herself to love, trust or believe in him again … much less ever feel comfortable or safe with him again, even with Jim and McCoy's help?

* * * * *

The first thing Spock did upon leaving Sickbay and returning to his quarters was take down all the pornographic holoprints, burning them all in his flame-pot while he activated his computer and deleted the graphic erotica featuring Jim, Christine and himself in the _ménáge a trois_ sexual act. He then activated a program he himself had devised which would not only destroy all pornography found on his own computer but all specific pornography found on any other computers aboard ship.

Unfortunately it would take time, and he had no idea how many people would see it and guess the source of it before it was all gone. In the end he told himself that it would be counterproductive to dwell on the possibility that others aboard ship may have saved some of the porno his bad half had posted on hard disk, as long as no one approached him on the subject, and as long as they kept their knowledge and the prints to themselves. Now all he had to worry about was salvaging his reputation in Starfleet and with his parents, but already feeling better now that the worst physical manifestations of his bad half's activities were gone.

However, once he completed the cleanup in his quarters, he felt a lingering weariness which prompted him to lie down to rest, although his mind was as active as ever, trying to figure out what to say both to Command and to his parents—particularly his father—which would preserve his relationships with them. He had a talent for words which had been passed down to him by his father (or at least the written word), but couldn't be sure that anything he could say regarding the doppleganger incident would be believed, no matter what it was. He couldn't blame them,of course; it was a cinch that he wouldn't have believed it either if someone had told it to him.

But it was vital that he at least make the attempt, in order to have any chance whatsoever of remaining in Starfleet or even in the Federation, for that matter. As difficult as that would surely be, even with Jim and McCoy's assistance, it would be infinitely more so to attempt to explain what had happened to him to Christine … do everything he possibly could to convince her that it had not been him who had assaulted her but his dop- pleganger, his bad half, his "evil twin," who was now reunited with him and back under his good half's strict control.

Even at that, she might still be apprehensive regarding his bad half, now that she knew what it was capable of—no matter how many reassurances he or his friends might make. He suspected that that apprehension would linger long after she managed to learn to trust him again, not to mention feel safe alone with him again … but even those would take time to return. He would have to be extra patient with her, since he had not only hurt her emotionally but physically. Physical wounds would heal, of course; it was her emotions that would be scarred for months, if not years, to come due to the trauma his bad half had subjected her to. Before he dared approach her, however, he would have to repair his relationships with his friends first, particularly McCoy, due to his bad half's assault on him—then they would need to sit down together and discuss the situation, any options he may have, such as how and when to act, what to say and how and when to say it to help put Christine at ease around him again.

Another thing he would have to try to do was get through to them that he had been traumatized in his own way just as much by his bad half as they. It was for this reason that he would empathize with their physical and emotional pain, since he had endured just as much and could understand their attitude toward the whole matter. He would also have to try to remember that it would take time for that fact to sink in emotionally, even though they would know it intellectually. And even if they were generous enough to give him the benefit of the doubt, it was still going to take him well into the foreseeable future to even begin to straighten things out—not only with his friends, parents and Christine, but his fellow crewmembers and Starfleet Command.


	9. Chapter 9

In the end the Vulcan decided to deal with any problems which were likely to crop up on a case-by-case basis, but it was necessary for him to make amends as best he could to Kirk, McCoy and Christine first, since he worked the closest with them. Not that he had any illusions that it would be easy, but then matters of this nature rarely were. It was no more than he should have expected after such an experience. His main regrets were the physical and emotional trauma his friends had been made to endure at the hands of his bad half. Once he had done all he possibly could for them, he would take steps to make the crew's own recovery as rapid as possible. At the first opportunity he contacted Jim and conveyed his desire to make amends to all of those his "evil twin" had wronged, especially all those said "twin" had physically assaulted.

"A thoughtful and noble desire," the Captain had to admit. "But if I were you, I wouldn't be under any illusions that everything's going to be solved overnight or that everybody's traumas will be instantaneously healed. It's a c inch that Bones is going to be wary of you for some time to come, not to mention Christine. I'll do all I can to help you, but sooner or later you're going to have to figure something to say to your parents and Fleet Command."

"I am well aware of that," came the terse reply. "Will you assist me?"

"I already said I would," Kirk reminded him. "But don't be surprised if with the passage of time, you discover dozens of crewmembers who have been terrorized in one way or another by your bad half. We can only hope that none of the other women have been sexually assaulted. We'll have enough to handle just taking care of Christine."

"I have no idea how I will ever convince her to trust me again. It seems that there are no words with sufficient power of persuasion."

"I think it's going to take not only words but a lot of time and patience to straighten everything out, Spock … and before you go on a heavy guilt trip, remember that nothing that has happened was your fault. You were just as much a victim as any of those your bad half has assaulted, either emotionally or physically."

"But it is likely that I will recover at least fairly rapidly," the Vulcan pointed out. "The others may never be the same again, including the Doctor and Christine."

"All we can do is our best," Kirk countered. "No one anywhere could possibly do more."

"That is not going to make their rehabilitation any easier," Spock returned dolefully.

"Neither will always looking on the dark side," Kirk threw back. "Now let's put our heads together and start thinking of how to approach Bones and Christine—then at the earliest opportunity, the rest of the crew."

"Not to mention Starfleet Command and my parents," Spock added.

"I have a suggestion regarding your parents," Kirk told his friend.

"Yes?"

"How about approaching your mother first? Explain as bets you can and in as much detail as possible just what happened to you. You always said that you found her far easier to talk to, and besides, she's more likely to understand that you couldn't possibly make up such a bizarre story. As the old saying goes, 'If you eliminate the impossible, whatever is left—however unlikely—must be the truth.'"

"That is a possibility," Spock conceded. "Perhaps then she would be able to help explain it to my father—once she has accepted it herself, that is. Have you any ideas as to how to approach Starfleet Command?"

"Maybe we can say that it was temporary insanity or something," Kirk replied. "How can we realistically expect them to swallow what really happened when we scarcely believe it ourselves? But we have to make it as airtight as possible, including having McCoy officially diagnosing same and prescribing several weeks of psychological therapy."

"I am certain that the Doctor would be willing to do so," Spock deadpanned. "You are aware of how many times he has referred to me as 'crazy'."

"He was only teasing you," Kirk assured him. "He knows better than that."

"Perhaps," Spock replied dubiously. "Any suggestions regarding Christine … Miss Chapel?"

"As I said before, we can go together to see her when the time comes, and if worst comes to worst, we'll take Bones along to help her feel better. Right now, though, I don't think she'd be inclined to want to stay in the same room with you without at least two other people present."

"I cannot blame her—but I have come to … regard her highly. This incident is going to make my efforts to convince her of my sincerity even more difficult." _As if it has not been difficult_ _enough,_ he added silently.

"What do you want to do next?" Kirk asked, yawning and stretching in his chair.

"Discuss our plans with the Doctor, as well as how to make amends to him for my deplorable actions toward him."

"Not you—your bad half," Kirk corrected. "Spock, you were _not_ responsible for what happened."

"If not me, then who is?" he countered. "It was, after all, my body which performed the multiple assaults."

"You were not yourself. In fact, you were barely half the person you were originally. Only a whole person should be held responsible for their actions. Besides, beating yourself up isn't going to change anything."

"But I cannot simply ignore what happened and do nothing to compensate those who have been traumatized." Spock rested his elbows on the table, steepling his hands in front of his face for a time before lowering his head slightly to rest it briefly on the steepled appendages.

"We're _not_ going to ignore what happened, nor are we going to do nothing to compensate those who have been injured by this. You have my word on that. It's just that it's going to take time before we'll even begin to be able to put it behind us."

"If we ever truly can," Spock returned dubiously.

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Kirk insisted. "We have the will, so there's got to be a way."

Spock was still skeptical as to the positive outcome of their even tentative plans, but had to concede to his friend's logic. "Very well. Have you any idea of the Doctor's location?"

"Depends on the time of day," Kirk informed him. "What time is it?"

"1930 hours," Spock supplied.

"All right, then I have to assume that he's probably in either the Officers' Lounge or Mess having something to eat. Which reminds me, it wouldn't do either of us any harm to have a bite ourselves. That way, perhaps we can even join him at his table."

Spock couldn't help wondering if Christine would also be there. Unfortunately she was likely to make a break for the nearest door if he showed his face anywhere near her right now. It definitely looked as though he would need the help of both his friends in order to keep her in the same room with him long enough to explain to her as best he could what had happened.

"Do you think that Chris— Miss Chapel—will also be present?" the First Officer inquired.

"Perhaps," Kirk replied. "We'll see what happens when we get there. Owing to what's happened, however, don't be surprised if she doesn't stick around for long once she knows you're there."

Spock allowed himself a resigned sigh. "I must endeavor to accept that, at least for a time."

"That's all you can do," the Captain returned as soothingly as possible. "Now let's go find Bones and have that talk."


	10. Chapter 10

Upon arrival they got themselves some food and began looking for McCoy as soon as they had stepped out of the food preparation area. It took only a few minutes for the Vulcan's sharp eyes to spot the Doctor halfway across the room in a booth which normally accommodated four, alone. So Christine wasn't here after all. Spock stamped down the disappointment that washed over him upon realizing this; he had been hoping to be able to talk to both of them at once. He sighed resignedly and simply followed Jim to where McCoy was, standing near the booth and speaking softly to him.

"May we join you, Bones?" Kirk asked with a smile. "The rest of the room's pretty full."

McCoy looked up, still leery of what Spock might do, but nodded and waved them to sit down. "Be my guest."

For a time they were quiet, just enjoying their food and drink, then Kirk took a long swig of his drink and jumped in with both feet. "Bones, we need to talk to you."

"'We'?" McCoy echoed, eyes narrowing upon meeting Kirk's; they became slits upon meeting those of Spock. The Vulcan read what was in those eyes and bowed his head, hurt, unable to hold the gaze.

"That's uncalled for, Bones," Kirk scolded. "You know that Spock would never have injured you had he been himself. It wasn't his fault that the transporter split him in half. Are you going to hold a grudge against him for something he could not control?"

"That's easy for you to say, Jim," the Doctor countered. "You didn't have your arm broken in two places. Nor are you still nursing a concussion given by a crazed Vulcan who threw you across the room and into a bulkhead. I'm still taking painkillers for that, by the way."

"We can't change what's happened, certainly, but what point is there to rehashing it? Spock feels bad enough already—and thanks to his bad half, he's going to have a hell of a time trying to straighten everything out. We need to _help_ him, not criticize him."

"So I'm just supposed to forget it, act like it never happened. Pretty hard to do when my arm's still stiff and I still have headaches. And what about Christine? Do you expect _her_ to simply forget the way Spock—no, pardon me, his evil twin—forced himself on her? If anything was uncalled for, that was. She loves him; she would have gladly capitulated. All he had to do was ask … but, no. Instead, he has to rape her—and if that's not bad enough, doing it while stinking drunk!"

"That's enough, Bones. He's already apologized to you several times for what happened. What more do you want from him? Have him serve time in the Brig? Sit in sackcloth and ashes for the duration? Would that satisfy you and make you stop spouting insults?"

"I wish it _was_ just me. That might be enough," the Doctor snapped back. "But how does he intend to make things up to Christine? She's going to need counseling for months, if not years, to come because of what the bad half has done, damn it! Not to mention being scared to death to even be in the same room with him, much less alone with him!"

"We're going to do all we can to help her, Bones," Kirk returned calmly, although it was very difficult for him not to shout right back. "You'll have to be satisfied with that. Now are you finished spouting off?"

"I suppose so," the CMO returned. "At least for the moment. Sorry, Spock. I'm just having a tough time dealing with it. It's not easy to have someone you always considered a friend suddenly attack you, then throw you across the room and into a bulkhead seemingly without provocation."

"I can understand how you must feel, Doctor. My bad half threatened me too, if you will recall. Had it not been for you and Jim intervening—" The First Officer broke off, but both of his companions knew what he had not said. "What Jim and I came here for, however, is to ask you if you would be willing to assist us in speaking with Christine … Miss Chapel … regarding what happened, attempt to convince her that it was not I but my bad half who assaulted her, since it is unlikely that she would be willing to allow me to do it by myself."

There was a long silence, then McCoy spoke again. "We can try, but there's no guarantee she's going to believe anything even we say, especially now that she knows what your bad half is capable of. It would also be easier if he hadn't looked like you. As it is, she's likely to always carry that picture in her mind. To her, it seems like the man she's worshiped for years just suddenly decided to brutally attack her and nothing she said or did could stop him. Physically she'll get over it, but she's had a considerable emotional trauma—and many times, trauma from a rape can affect a woman's whole attitude toward love and romantic relationships sometimes even for years after the event. It's going to be even more difficult for her, knowing it was even seemingly at the hands of someone she's always loved, trusted, believed in … and thought she knew."

"Do you think it's possible for me to regain her love and trust?" Spock couldn't help asking.

"Anything's possible, Spock," McCoy returned, his voice gentler than the Vulcan had ever heard. "You just have to be extra patient with her and not try to pressure her in any way."

"How long do you think it will take?" he inquired.

"No idea. We'll just have to play it by ear, take it one day at a time … do everything we can to help her and hope for the best."

"Have you any ideas as to what we can do as to straightening matters out with Starfleet Command and my parents? Jim believes it might be feasible to tell them I was suffering from temporary insanity, because I somehow doubt they would accept the whole truth. Would you be willing to certify that if we decided to take that course of action?" The Vulcan took a few more bites of his own food and washed it down with his favorite Vulcan citrus drink, _kahlin_. After this, it was unlikely he would ever drink anything alcoholic again.

"If we can't come up with anything better," the Doctor replied, finishing his food, then reaching for his drink and finishing it. "When were you thinking of approaching Christine?"

"At the earliest possible time," came the reply. "Perhaps you could even contact us at some point and let us know when you think would be a good time."

"That's a possibility. Probably also the only way we could get her to stay in the same room with you for more than five minutes, if Jim and I were there as insurance."

"Perhaps Lt. Uhura as well," Kirk suggested. "Remember what close friends she and Miss Chapel are."

"All right, it's decided then," McCoy informed him. "Jim and I and Lt. Uhura will be with you and Christine when we talk to her. By the way, where did you want to hold it?"

"Somewhere where she feels comfortable would probably be best," Kirk broke in. "Either her quarters or the Officers' Lounge, if not a deserted briefing room."

"I believe she would be more likely to prefer the Officers' Lounge; at least it would be large enough to accommodate all of us. We would also have access to food, drink and music, should we desire it—or perhaps I could bring my Vulcan harp and play for us," Spock commented.

"I could ask her if you like and let you know," the Doctor offered. At the dubious looks on his companions' faces, he smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. I'll simply ask where she generally prefers to have get-togethers with friends."

With that, the three friends left the room to go to their respective quarters and get some sleep in order to strengthen themselves for the long struggle ahead.

* * * * *

While waiting to hear back from McCoy regarding Christine, Spock worked with Jim during their off-duty hours setting up a means for those the Vulcan's bad half had injured, emotionally or physically, using the ship's best psychologists, as well as the top financial and medical experts, assuring all concerned that their cases would be fully documented for future reference in the event of other, similar occurrences and kept totally confidential. Spock could only hope that none of them would confront him because there was no way he could have explained what had hap-pened, what had made his bad half act as he/it had. He could only do his best to compensate them, both financially and emotionally.

Once that was done, the Captain did all he could to assist Spock with both letters to Starfleet Command, Admirals Nogura and Komack … but most importantly, the Vulcan's parents—or specifically, his mother. Both agreed that it would make no sense to try and explain things to Sarek until and unless Amanda was willing to help them. McCoy's official report detailing Spock's "temporary insanity" should also help things along.


	11. Chapter 11

It took several days to even begin to accomplish all they wanted to do, although McCoy brought some good news—Christine was willing to meet with the Vulcan in the Officers' Lounge for dinner … as long as he had Kirk, McCoy and Uhura there for insurance. It was no more than Spock had expected, but what mattered was that he was going to get a chance to at least try to explain matters. Of course, there was no guarantee she would believe him and he couldn't blame her, but all he could do was his best, tell her the truth as well as possible. If she couldn't sense his sincerity by now …

It was 1830 when the five met for dinner. Spock and his friends were there first, waiting for the ladies to arrive. When they did, the men almost literally fell all over themselves to accommodate them. Christine allowed Spock to get her tray for her and even set it before her, although he had Uhura and McCoy on either side of her and Kirk between the Doctor and Spock on the other. It was the only way she would feel safe. There was a long silence between the group when they first began eating; one could almost have literally cut the tension in the air with a knife. Spock was not used to starting a conversation himself. Usually it was one of his friends who did that and he jumped in when and where he deemed necessary … but this time he knew he had to be the one to make the first move. Otherwise he might lose his chance with Christine for all time. "How are you feeling today, Christine?" he asked gently before taking a bite and swallow of food and drink.

"I'm okay," she returned coolly upon doing the same. "Still a little stiff and sore, but that's to be expected."

"I very much regret what happened to you," he told her sincerely. "And intend to do everything possible to assist you. You have but to ask."

"I appreciate that, Spock, and will keep it in mind," she returned neutrally. "Are _you_ all right?"

"I am well," he returned. "May I ask you a personal question?"

Christine's eyes widened and a wary look came into them. "What's the question?"

"I would like to play my Vulcan harp for you sometime. Will you allow me to do so? You may choose the songs as well."

There was silence for a time, then Christine nodded. "All right—as long as the others can be present."

"Very well," he conceded. "I would also like you to sit beside me as I play. Would you be willing to do so?" He knew he was taking a chance by asking but had to know.

"As I said, as long as the others are present," she reiterated.

"Thank you. Would everyone's next mutual off-duty time be acceptable?"

"I suppose so," she agreed. "Now, may I finish eating?"

"Of course." With that, everyone resumed their meals and made mental plans for their next off-duty time.

* * * * *

Before anything else, however, Spock decided to sit down and explain matters to his mother as best he could, per Jim's advice—both regarding the bizarre situation he had recently found himself in and the more difficult aftermath of same, especially where it had to do with Christine. He had never found any letter as difficult to write as this one, for obvious reasons. He could only hope that Amanda, always all-too-perceptive when it came to things her very Vulcan but at the same time, far too emotional son was concerned, would "read between the lines" yet again and surmise at least some of the things he found so difficult to put into words.

But even in the best circumstances, it would take considerable time for it to sink in and once it did, even more time for Amanda to sort it all out. Only then could she even begin to try to explain it to Sarek. Here on his end, Spock could only hope that his friends would be able to help him figure out what to say to (and do for) Christine when the time came. As it was, he had phrased it to his mother this way—and although he had literally wracked his brain and extensive vocabulary for the right words to convey what he wanted to say, he was still unsure that he had done so. He could only wait and see what her reply was like.

"Mother, how am I ever going to convince Christine—Miss Chapel—that I was not the one who attacked her when the bad half carried my face, my voice, my body? However, he did _not_ carry my true personality, who could never have knowingly harmed her, either physically or emotionally. You know how I abhor violence, but unfortunately there are now all too many aboard ship who likely believe otherwise … and who can blame them? Despite the fact that I have done all I possibly can for them …" He then detailed the financial, medical and psycho-logical arrangements he had made for the crew who had been traumatized by the actions of his bad half.

"But to get back to Christine. Even with the financial, medical and psychological arrange- ments, it is going to take considerable time and patience for my relationship with her even to return to what it was before this. Another result of my reunion with my bad half is that I now have all his memories of what he did while we were separated. With my mental disci-plines restored, I can deal with the majority of them, but the memories of what he did with Christine, what he made her do, literally sicken me. There have been times that I have even become physically ill, they are so abhorrent to me … and if they can affect _me_ like this, how must Christine be feeling, having to deal with them on a daily basis?

"I could not blame her if she never wanted anything to do with me ever again. It would not be so … painful were it not for the fact of my deepening feelings for her. I wish with every fiber of my being to demonstrate to her that my hands and lips can … love her physically, that my voice can … love her verbally in order to replace her unpleasant memories with beautiful ones, but after what has happened, I have serious doubts that she would ever allow me to do so. How can I possibly, effectively convey to her that I was just as much a victim in my own way as she was in hers, but most of all, that I wish to eventually share a permanent romantic relationship with her?"

A short time later, he ended the stargram with a wish for both of his parents' health, happiness and safety, as well as a request to let him know of any news they had learned that he might find of interest before closing and transmitting the fairly long missive—then once that was done, he intended to prepare as best he could for the upcoming get-together with his friends and Christine, which was coming up within the next hour and a half.


	12. Chapter 12

Kirk and McCoy met Spock shortly after he left his quarters, and the three friends shared a silent communion while making their way to the Officers' Lounge where Christine and Uhura were most likely waiting. Upon reaching it, the men greeted the women with smiles and nods, then joined them at a conglomeration of padded benches situated in front of an artificial oasis scented with various flowers from Rigel Five, Earth and Vulcan.

The women momentarily refused meals, declaring that all they were presently in the mood for was good music and fellowship. Christine sat next to Spock as promised, but Uhura was beside her on the other side and Kirk and McCoy close by her on an adjoining bench. The first thing Christine requested was her favorite current ballad, _Beyond Antares_, but after that she requested the 18th and 19th century pieces by Beethoven and Tchaikovsky, _Pastoral Symphony (#6)_ and _Nutcracker Suite_ as well as one by 19th century French composer Camille Saint-Saens, well known for his musical tributes to animals. Christine's favorite was _Le Cygne (The Swan)._

After she had heard all her favorites, Christine gave the others leave to request some of theirs, which they naturally did. It was some hours later, close on to 2100, before the Humans declared themselves hungry. Again, Spock got Christine's tray for her before getting his own and made it a point to sit next to her, this time with McCoy on her other side. Uhura was beside him and Kirk next to her, this time in a corner group, the only seating arrangement which would accommodate all of them.

Christine was reluctant to talk, but between them, Spock, McCoy and Uhura (with a little assistance from Kirk) gently drew her out and encouraged her to voice her opinion and feelings on various subjects. Spock didn't normally speak during meals, in keeping with Vulcan tradition, but broke it this time in order to hopefully make Christine see that he was doing all he possibly could to make her feel at ease in his presence. Of course, it wouldn't happen overnight, but with luck, persistence and help from their friends, it _would_ happen someday. It had to, if he was ever going to reach his designated goal of having Christine as his own in every way.

The evening went better than expected, although Christine was still somewhat fear-ful being anywhere near Spock without one of their friends nearby for insurance and protection. He tried to be understanding and patient with her, but felt so strongly that it was very difficult to conceal his growing love and pain. He had done everything possible for a Vulcan in order to convey his growing regard and she was still fright-ened of him. All the same, he must not pressure her, just accept and be thankful for whatever she was willing to grant him in the way of her company or touch.

Once the dinner was over, the friends separated to go to their respective quarters. This night, as fate would have it, Christine refused to be alone with Spock, insisting that Uhura accompany them even though her quarters was halfway across the ship—in the opposite direction. He did his best to conceal his hurt and frustration, going along with her whims in order that she be placated. Upon reaching her quarters, he tentatively asked if he could kiss her hand. The Head Nurse looked somewhat surprised that Spock would ask to do such a thing in front of someone, but figured she could at least allow him that much as long as Nyota was there to keep an eye on things.

"Thank you for your most pleasant company, Christine. Sleep well."

"Thank you, Spock. Good night." She moved to open her quarters door as soon as he had released her hand, then stepped inside and was gone.

This left him alone with Uhura as he escorted her to her quarters; she tried to draw him out but was unsuccessful. She usually could, but figured this was one time that Spock didn't want to talk and at times like that, probably not even the Captain could loosen his tongue. All she could do was be patient and not pressure him, although it was all she could do not to take him in her arms and hug him, he looked so crest-fallen and lonely … although he was likely to deny any such thing should she mention it.

Other than Kirk and occasionally McCoy, it was with Christine that the Vulcan seemed able to talk even more-or-less freely—at least nowadays. She herself and Spock shared a common love of music and the ability to play several musical instruments, but the one they shared the ability to play was the Vulcan lyre … and had been known to talk for hours on end simply about various songs and instruments, sometimes even over dinner.

Upon reaching her door, Uhura tried one last time to ask Spock what was wrong—but again, he simply said, "I appreciate your concern for me, Miss Uhura, but I am not … in the mood, as you say, for conversation."

Uhura sighed resignedly and turned to open her quarters door. "Suit yourself, Spock—but if you need a friendly ear, you know where to find me."

He nodded gratefully and gave her a half-smile before bidding her good-night, making a mental note to have a long talk with Uhura about Christine as he headed toward his own quarters, see if she could offer any advice or insights on how to interact with the Head Nurse in order to make his wait shorter and easier.

* * * * *

To say that Uhura was surprised when Spock contacted her the following evening with a request for a private discussion would be to damn with faint praise. However, she doubted that he would want to discuss music, considering what had so recently happened between his bad half and Christine. He knew that Uhura was Christine's closest woman friend aboard ship and thus would be able to give advice as to the most likely means of convincing her of his sincerity regarding his feelings for her.

They agreed to meet in a secluded booth in the Officers' Lounge at 2100 hours for a late dinner. When Uhura arrived Spock already had her custom ordered meal waiting for her. Once she was settled and they had eaten, he sighed deeply and swallowed hard. "I assume you are wondering why I asked you here."

"I assumed it had something to do with Christine," came his companion's reply after she had taken a long swig of her favorite non-alcoholic African beverage, Ethiopian punch made with the juice of six different fruits mixed with Seven-Up.

"You assumed correctly," Spock confirmed even as he looked back at her with both eyebrows raised, which for him was an expression of stunned surprise. "You are Christine's closest friend. I need advice on how to become closer to her without unduly frightening her."

For a long time Uhura didn't know what to say. It wasn't every day Spock came to her for advice on anything, particulary not advice on how to woo and win Christine, particularly after their recent bizarre experience.


	13. Chapter 13

"It's hard to know just what to tell you, Spock...but I _can_ tell you this much. Intellectually, Chris knows that it wasn't you that attacked her, but because your bad half carried your face and your body and spoke with your voice, she's going to carry that picture, that memory, around in her head for a long time to come, even after she learns to love and trust you again. I can also say that I know for certain she still loves you in spite of it all, but because of what happened, is also going to feel wary around you for a long time to come.

"If you want to see her, at least for the time being, you'll have to endure the Captain, Dr. McCoy and myself being there as well. At present, that's the only way she feels safe being around you. I know it's not going to be easy to wait or be patient with her, but you must or else she could be scarred for life. The last thing you want is to cause that. Emotional traumas always take far longer to head than physical ones and can often affect a person's whole attitude toward personal relationships, especially romantic ones. It's likely to take considerable time before she'll allow you to do more than touch her hand or kiss it, much less anything more physical, such as a kiss, embrace or...with luck..physical love." Uhura spoke carefully and as gently as she could, knowing how difficult it was for Spock to ask her such personal things. "You _do_ want all that eventually, don't you?"

The First Officer lowered his head and fought not to blush even as he nodded in confirmation, intently studying his half-eaten meal in order not to look into his companion's knowing eyes.

"I'd say she's made considerable progress in that regard, but there's still a long way to go. I know it's difficult for you to do personal things in public, but it might be a good idea to try it on occasion—with us around at first, then perhaps...and at the proper time...you could attempt it when you're alone with her."

"But she does not wish to be alone with me," Spock returned dully. "And I very much wish to be alone with her."

"As I said, give her time, Spock. She _does_ still love you, as I said. If you play your cards right, her feelings on that score should eventually overcome her lingering wariness of you. Then you should try to _gradually_ become more physical with her...holding her hand, kissing it, perhaps even one arm loosely around her. I would hold off on attempting anything more than a brief kiss for the time being...and even then, it should be in our presence, although we'll try to keep a respectful distance, so as not to intrude _too_ much."

Uhura sighed and took another long swig of her drink after her lengthy speech. "I can imagine how much you want to touch, hold and kiss her, but it takes a long time—months at the very least—for a woman to want to be touched again after a sexual assault, even by friends or loved ones. Even I don't do more than hug her briefly, and that only after a month of keeping my distance. Rape is violence, but it is sexual violence, and it is only a woman's _body_ which reacts in the age-old manner, as it would to regular sex. Her heart and mind are something else again.

"I'm sure with one part of her that Chris would love to have you touch, hold or kiss her—and be alone with you...but after her assault, there's another part which wants nothing of the kind. Unfortunately, the latter part is far stronger than the former right now."

"But surely she knows that I, as myself, would sooner injure myself than knowingly cause her any pain, either physical or emotional. In fact, violence of _any_ kind is abhorrent to me."

"As I said, Spock, intellectually she knows all that, but emotionally it takes a long time to sink in after such a trauma as she has experienced. Even if it was only _seemingly_ at your hands, that belief alone—that the man she's worshiped for years did such a brutal, monstrous thing to her... can add weeks, if not months, to her recovery time. Even with all the help there is available for women in her position."

"But surely she also knows that I was just as much a victim in my own way as she was. Even at that, it is not stopping me from caring for her, wishing to be with her. If I, as a Vulcan, can do it ..." His voice trailed off.

"You also have mental disciplines you can use to heal yourself," Uhura reminded him. "Christine doesn't."

"I am also willing to assist Christine in her mental and emotional healing as soon as she is willing to allow me to do so," Spock assured his companion. "Please tell her this for me, because I doubt she would believe it coming from me at present."

"Don't worry, I will." Uhura smiled, briefly reaching to rest her nearest hand over Spock's nearest hand. "Hang in there. She'll come around. Just do as I say and don't try to rush her."

When Uhura least expected it, the Vulcan caught her hand and raised it to his lips. "Thank you for your assistance in this matter, Miss Uhura. May I call on you again should I have further questions?"

"You need to ask?" She smiled again. "Feel better now?"

"Much," he returned quietly. "I must retire now. I will see you on the Bridge in the morning."

"Good night, Spock. Sleep well."

"I shall attempt to do so. Good evening."

With that, he stood up and turned for the door leading out of the room and to the nearest turbolift which would take him back to his quarters in Officers' Country on Deck Five. Even at that, he couldn't be sure just how much sleep he would get. His dreams had been plagued with tantalizing, deeply erotic but at the same time equally romantic visions of himself with Christine for at least the last two weeks. They were often quite arousing, which made it all the more difficult to be around her without "getting physical", but his feelings of love and tenderness kept him from doing it. In fact, they were the _only_ things that kept him from doing it.

Even as much as he wanted her, however, he loved her more...enough to wait as long as necessary, however difficult it turned out to be—and he had no doubts whatsoever that it was likely to be hellishly hard by the time she felt comfortable enough with him to allow intimacies. But neither did he doubt that when she finally did allow him intimacies that the wait would be well worth it.

He saw the logic in taking one step at a time in order not to scar her for life, and intellectually agreed with it, even understood her side to a degree, but that didn't mean he had to like it, emotionally speaking. One may be assured that he disliked it intensely, but he also knew that it was best for them both in the long run. Meanwhile, he had best occupy himself as best he could with other concerns, both professional and personal.


	14. Chapter 14

It was three days before McCoy could fit the mental tests for Spock into his schedule because he had been busy making up the backlog of cases which had built up during his convalescence. He was grateful for efficient underlings, particularly since they had not only had to cover for him but Christine, at least to a degree. As long as she didn't have Spock too near her and other people around when he was, she was able to function in pretty much her regular capacity … although McCoy was glad to see that she was at least beginning to relax more around the Vulcan. Of course, there were times she absolutely could not, and those were the times when either one of her underlings or colleagues filled in for her, particularly if Spock needed a physical (or in this case, mental tests). McCoy was sure that Spock would feel a mixture of hurt and disappointment when he arrived for the mental tests and found that Christine would not be assisting him.

He felt for his alien friend, knowing well how he was coming to feel about the Head Nurse, but at the same time understood why Christine was acting as she was about him. It would take longer than overnight for her to get over what Spock's bad half had done, even considering how far she had come in just three months' time. Words could seem so inadequate for comfort or reassurance sometimes, but unfortunately they were all he had to give since Spock was not one to allow too much physical contact because of his telepathy and difficulty in maintaining full mental shields on a long-term basis.

The Vulcan's deep, rich baritone brought the Doctor back to reality. "Doctor? Dr. McCoy? I am here for the mental testing."

"Oh, Spock! Sorry. Just got lost in thought," McCoy returned apologetically. "Shall we get started?"

"Very well, Doctor," came the quiet, if resigned, reply.

"Follow me, then."

McCoy swung around on his heel and gestured with his good arm (the right was still somewhat stiff, although that was gradually fading as he used it more; his headaches had also diminished in intensity and he had consequently cut back on his pain medication) in the First Officer's direction to follow him into the adjoining room where the mental tests would be conducted. The Doctor had made certain to have Spock clear several hours of his schedule since the tests would likely take the majority of the afternoon and take a lot out of him, if only emotionally. Kirk had naturally granted him the rearrangement of his duty shift that particular day and wasn't expecting him back until the following day.

"I know how difficult this whole business must be for you, Spock, so if you like, I'm willing to give you a mild tranquilizer in order to calm you before we begin the tests."

What he did not say was that the tranquilizer was derived from the Omicron Ceti III spores, which had been proven to make Vulcans more emotionally open and candid, and consequently more receptive to conventional psychotherapy. The CMO was sure the Vulcan would refuse because he generally preferred to have his mind clear and unbefuddled by drugs of any kind when undergoing any kind of mental test. He was surprised when Spock agreed without argument.

"All right, Doctor. Just do so with alacrity in order that we may be able to complete the tests as rapidly as possible."

McCoy was hard-put to hide his surprise, but believed he had managed as he pressed the hypo containing the tranquilizer against Spock's arm. The tranquil-izer took effect within moments and the Doctor decided it was best to begin the tests immediately, promising results as soon as he could provide them—both to Spock and those most concerned, both aboard ship and at Starfleet Command.

* * * * *

It was the following afternoon, after both the Captain and Spock were off-shift, that McCoy called them both down into Sickbay to discuss the results of the mental tests. Once they were seated before him and had been gotten drinks (Spock's naturally non-alcoholic), the Doctor picked up the diskette containing his report and slid it into the computer drive. Within moments the other two heard McCoy's findings. Even though most of it was phrased in terms that even Spock found barely comprehensible, the gist of it was that the Vulcan was as sane as he had ever been. There was no indication of any mental instability—and little indication that there had ever been.

Both men facing the Doctor breathed a thankful sigh, although Spock's was somewhat subdued. So great was his relief that he was controlling doubly hard. "Have you notified Starfleet Command, Doctor?"

"Yes, Spock," McCoy returned with a smile. "They should get it within the next three days."

"Thank God," Kirk remarked. "Now maybe we can begin to get all this behind us."

"At least some of it, anyway." McCoy pushed the button to open the drive, then told the voice-operated computer terminal to turn off, turning the blue diskette nervously over and over in his hands. "By the way, Spock, when did you want to see Christine again? Jim, Uhura and I need to know so that we can clear our schedules."

"At your convenience, Doctor," the Vulcan answered. "Jim, could you have Miss Uhura speak to Christine and see when she will be available?"

"No problem, Spock. I've got to contact the Bridge again anyway. I'll ask her then."

Spock nodded gratefully, allowing himself a half-smile at his friends. Surely he did not deserve such thoughtful, caring friends, particularly after what his bad half had done to them. Even if they had forgiven him for what had happened, the Vulcan knew it would be a long time before he would forgive himself.


	15. Chapter 15

Once the friends had bade each other farewell, the two headed back down the corridor together, as if returning to the Bridge, although neither had any intention of doing so. Instead, they were going to their respective quarters, since Kirk had decided to call Uhura from there instead.

When they neared their quarters, the Captain asked, "What did you plan to do once you get back to your quarters, Spock? Play your harp, some 3-D chess with the computer or what?"

"I was thinking of playing my harp for a time. Did you wish to join me? I would prefer not to be alone right now."

"I'd be delighted, Spock," Kirk smiled. At the same time, he couldn't help noticing the sadness in his friend's dark eyes. "Don't worry, my friend. I know how difficult it must be for you, but as Uhura told you, Christine _does_ still love you. Just bear with her."

"I …am trying, Jim, but it is becoming more difficult with every passing day. I … do not know what I would do without you and Mother to confide in."

"That's what friends—and mothers—are for, Spock. We both love you and want you to be as happy as possible … and if Christine is what will make you happy, then we intend to do all we can to help you win her over again. It's just going to take time."

Kirk patted his friend's shoulder reassuringly as they reached the Vulcan's quarters. Moments later the pair entered and stepped through; the doors closed behind them with a soft _swish_. Spock felt such a strong rush of affection for his friend that speech momentarily eluded him. He simply nodded with a half-smile before heading for where he kept his treasured Vulcan harp. Upon retrieving it, he sat down on his bed and began tuning it. Kirk sat down on the bed and waited patiently for him to begin playing.

* * * * *

The songfest lasted for several hours, the two alternating various favorites from both Earth and Vulcan, but finally Kirk took his leave, admonishing his friend to contact him if he needed anything. Spock assured him he would. The friends exchanged a final affectionate glance before the doors of their shared bathroom swished shut between them and the Captain returned to his own quarters. Upon arrival, he was certain that Uhura was now in her own quarters, so he decided to call her there.

"Uhura, do you know if Christine will be free any time soon? Spock wants to see her again—and you know she only feels safe around him if you, Bones and I are there."

"The last time I talked to her, she mentioned something about 1900 hours tomorrow. Is that all right?"

"It's OK for me, but let me talk to Bones and see if he can arrange things so he's free at that time. I feel sure that Spock will see to it that _he_ is."

"I'll be waiting for your call. Let me know as soon as possible, so I can tell Chris."

"No problem. Good night, Uhura."

"Good night," she returned. "See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." With that, the conversation ended and both participants retired.

* * * * *

Again, the time together was enjoyable … but not nearly as enjoyable as it could have been. The most Christine would allow Spock to do in the way of physical contact was hand-holding—and even then, it had to be in the presence of their three closest friends. His need and desire to hold and kiss her (not to mention spend time alone together) was becoming acute, and he had to think of some-thing so they could be satisfied or he was going to go mad. He thought of one possibility after once again leaving Christine at her door, the only kiss allowed between them being one either on her cheek or her forehead. He called both Kirk and McCoy to his quarters and put the problem to them, asking for advice as to what to do.

"I don't know, Spock. She's doing better all the time, but there's still a long way to go. If we try to rush things …" McCoy's tone was dubious.

"But how could a mind-meld hurt her? I would be very gentle—and again, you would be there to make her feel safe. Besides, we have to do something. It is becoming progressively more difficult with every passing day to spend time with Christine without being able to hold, touch and … kiss her."

"Jim, what do you think?" the Doctor asked, exchanging glances with Kirk.

"I think we should try it," Kirk opined. "As far as I can tell, it's the only thing we haven't attempted … and you remember Spock's mind-meld with van Gelder … not to mention both of us at one time or another. Why would it not help Christine?"

"Jim, it takes longer than overnight to get over a trauma like hers. Months, at the very least. If it doesn't work, we could set her progress back to square one. I understand why Spock wants to try it, but it's a hell of a risk."

"I'm no psychology expert like you, Bones, but I can't help thinking that Christine may be having difficulty separating her memories of Spock's bad half from the memories of the good Spock. If he can meld with her long enough, he could probably show her that he's back to himself and that she can begin to relax around him again."

"I still don't like it, Jim." Just the same, neither of them could resist the look of entreaty on their Vulcan friend's face. He needed something to give him some hope that he would eventually be able to hold, touch and kiss the object of his affections without having to wait months or even years in order to accommodate Christine. "All right, all right. But if this backfires in our faces, Christine is the one who will suffer the most," McCoy returned, giving in against his better judgment. "I suggest we keep that in mind even as we take all the precautions we possibly can. Which reminds me, let's get Uhura down here and discuss it with her, then see what we can do about convincing Christine—and after that, scheduling a convenient time and place for the mind-meld."

With that, it was decided. Now all they had to do was meet with Uhura to discuss the possibility of Spock mind-melding with Christine, then figuring a way to convince her to do it. Promising the presence of friends would certainly help, but even if the mind-meld worked, it would still take time for Christine to even begin to get back to where she would be willing to accept romantic over-tures from a man, especially Spock. But if only for the sake of the couple's potential future together, they had to try.

* * * * *

After a long heart-to-heart talk with her friends and colleagues, Uhura agreed that something had to be done—but was every bit as apprehensive as McCoy was as to taking a chance while Christine was still so very delicate emotionally. If things weren't done just right, she could be scarred for life, and they would be the ones to blame. On the other hand, if nothing at all was done, she would likely remain forever wary of Spock, afraid to be alone with him or even allow him to touch her despite her love for him. It was risky, but the mind-meld also seemed to be the only way to convince her that he was back to himself, cared deeply for her and wished to be allowed to show it. Just the same, Uhura felt it best that she approach Christine herself first with the possibility, give her all necessary assurances of her safety and see if she would agree to allow Spock to mind-meld with her in order to show her that he had no intention of harming her and in fact, wished very much to become both physically and emotionally close to her. If he, as a Vulcan, was willing to take that risk by opening his mind and heart to her, she should be able to at least give him the chance to attempt to make amends to her.

After Uhura got off-duty the following day, she decided to invite Christine out fort dinner in the most secluded booth she could find and put the proposition regarding the mind-meld before her. Once Christine arrived and the women had had their meal, Uhura believed that her friend was relaxed enough so that they could have their private talk.

"Chris, I need to talk to you. It's very important."

"So talk, Ny. I'm listening."

"I had a talk with the Captain and Dr. McCoy the other day about your … inability to allow Spock closer to you despite your love for him, and we believe we have devised a solution. We will all be there if you wish in order to make you feel safe, but have all agreed that a mind-meld with Spock is likely to be the only way you will ever be convinced that he has no intention of harming you further. In fact, he wishes very much to become both physically and emotionally closer to you."

Just the thought of a mind-meld, even with the presence of her friends and colleagues there as protection and insurance made Christine apprehensive. All the same, she had also begun to think that something along those lines had to be done in order for her to be able to allow Spock near her again without their friends having to be in constant attendance, since conventional psychotherapy didn't seem to be doing her any good. Maybe it was time for some Vulcan techniques …

"All right, Ny. When do they want to do it?"

"At your earliest convenience. I told them I would let them know your decision as soon as I knew what it was."

"Then you may tell them that I'm willing. Get back to me with the time and stardate so that I may plan accordingly."

* * * * *

It seemed like a great weight had been lifted from everyone's shoulders when Uhura reported back that Christine had agreed to accept the mind-meld with Spock, albeit with their friends present as insurance. After that, with luck, they shouldn't be necessary anymore. He mind-meld was arranged in the Officers' Lounge after everyone had gotten off-duty that evening. It was also suggested for the sake of maximum comfort for all concerned that they wear civilian clothing. Just the same, it was agreed that the men arrive first and wait for Uhura to bring Christine to them, then they could take it from there. Spock was feeling a mixture of happiness and apprehension, hard-pressed to conceal it even as hard as he tried. He wanted so much to believe that this mind-meld would work and that Christine would wish to be close to him again, but couldn't count on anything. Not after all his bad half had put everyone, especially her, through. He had not heard from his mother yet regarding her attempt to explain what had happened to him to Sarek, and what his father's reaction had been. He could only hope for a favorable response. For the time being, though, all he could do on that score was wait.


	16. Chapter 16

He was brought back to reality by the doors of the Officers' Lounge swishing open, then closing again a moment later. Kirk looked in that direction and nudged Spock. "Heads up, Spock. The girls are here." McCoy, next to the Vulcan on his other side, looked at his alien friend with a mixture of concern and apprehension, knowing he would never forgive himself if this mind-meld only made matters worse, especially since it had been Spock's own suggestion.

Once the girls reached them, it was Uhura who spoke. "All right, we're here. What do you want us to do now?"

"Have Christine sit down next to Spock while we surround them, offering support and protection for them both," Kirk said because Spock was unable to bring himself to do so, even though it was technically his responsibility. It took a few minutes for everyone to re-situate themselves, but they finally managed and Spock tentatively raised a hand to Christine's face. He looked into her eyes and saw a mixture of fear and hope there, knowing what his bad half had done to her to put the fear there. However, he now intended to do everything possible to erase that fear.

"Are you ready, Christine?" he asked softly.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Let's get started."

"Very well." With that, Spock gently placed his hand on Christine's meld points and concentrated intently, finding to his surprise and delight—although he schooled himself to conceal this to the best of his ability—that her mind was now open to him as never before.

_Christine, can you feel me?_

_I can feel you, Spock._

_Do you believe that I will not harm you ever again? That although my bad half is definitely a part of me, he is under my good half's strict control and will never be allowed to surface again … at least not against you._

_I have always known intellectually that it was not you who assaulted me that day, Spock, but because your bad half resembled you, emotionally I could not help but associate him with you. I'm very sorry for making you wait so long to learn this as well as the fact of my forgiveness and renewed desire for physical and emotional closeness with you. Even at that, it will take time for me to be completely comfortable with you again, although I'm now willing to spend time alone with you without the company of our friends._

_I understand, Christine. I do not blame you for not wanting to be around me after what the bad half did to you. All the same, it has been … very difficult to remain casual with you, since my … feelings for you have become quite strong. If you will allow me to be close to you physically on occasion, hold you and perhaps … kiss you, it will be easier for me to give you the time and space you need to emotion- ally accept the situation which I intend there to be between us._

For a long time there was mental silence on Christine's end and Spock couldn't help but wonder if he had gone too far by revealing the strength of his feelings for her and what it might motivate him to do when his Time came. But even in _pon farr_, he vowed never to hurt her again if he could possibly avoid it.

He wanted to tell her about that, not to mention put to her the possibility of their bonding, but it was necessary for her to be at least more-or-less comfortable with him again before he dared to do so. For the present, he would be content if she would but allow him to be alone with her on occasion as well as hold and perhaps kiss her without the necessity of their friends' presence in order to feel safe.

_Christine?_ He finally called out apprehensively.

_Sorry, Spock. Just letting everything … sink in._

_I have a suggestion,_ he finally said.

_What is it?_

_I must discuss it with the Vulcan Healers, but it is possible for me to assist you in your mental and emotional healing. It would require several weekly mind-melds over time, how much depending on your progress. Now that you have consented to this mind-meld, we may take the next step. I will contact the Healers and get instructions from them, then we can arrange a mutually convenient schedule. You will also be able to have our friends there if you wish._

_I don't think that will be necessary. Just the same, thank you for giving me the option._

_Are we … friends again, Christine?_

_Friends, _she mentally smiled._ And anything else you might want. Let's just take it one day at a time, okay?_

_Fair enough, _he returned, unable to keep from showing his happiness at her accepting him once again.

When they came out of the meld, their friends all looked apprehensively at them but McCoy was the one who spoke first. "Chris, you all right?"

"I'm fine, Leonard. The meld worked, just as Spock hoped. He even said he was willing to help me heal mentally and emotionally using Vulcan techniques. He just needs to contact the Vulcan Healers and get instructions first, then we could arrange a schedule for weekly mind-melds."

"Fine by me, and I won't interfere as long as you two keep me posted as to your progress."

Both nodded in agreement, the three friends pleased to note that the couple was already holding hands. With luck, something else just a tad more intimate--if only a kiss—would likely happen before the evening was over. For the time being, though, they'd done all they could do. What mattered was that Christine was finally on the way to a full and complete recovery … and eventually, with luck and persistence, a lifetime of love with the man she loved.

* * * * *

It took roughly a week to get the instructions on how to proceed with the therapeutic mind-melds for Christine, and after studying the information thoroughly, Spock called her in and they arranged a mutually convenient schedule in between their other duties. As soon as he could, however, he contacted Kirk and McCoy and filled them in on what he planned to do, even inviting them to sit in if they wished. Each said they would come if their duties permitted, but otherwise intended to let Spock do as he wished in regards to the mind-melds, especially since he was the one who knew the most about them.

The first session was scheduled for a week after he had received the information and Christine came to the Officers' Lounge so they would have both privacy and quiet, scheduling the session for a time when there would be the least amount of crew traffic. He set up music they both liked, alternating her and his own favorites, not to mention making sure they had good meals before beginning, in order to ensure that their physical and mental faculties were at their peak.

Despite Christine's assurances that she would no longer need their friends as insurance, Spock was still half-expecting her to have at least Uhura accompany her—but to his surprise and scarcely-concealed pleasure, she arrived alone at the previously arranged time of 2100 hours. He had calculated the meld to take no longer than an hour each time in order to make sure that neither he nor Christine got tired, especially since mind-melds tended to do that to him—especially long ones—and there were other things he intended to do (should she allow them, of course) upon completion of the melds. For the time being, how-ever, he had best concentrate on the business at hand.

Upon finishing their meals and while the music was still playing, the current one a favorite Vulcan piece of Spock's from his early manhood, Spock thought it most logical to begin the session. He seated himself and Christine in front of a window which looked out over the ship's warp nacelles and showed the inky blackness of space seemingly dotted with diamonds, in reality faraway stars.

They were seated on a padded bench, fresh drinks at hand in order that they be able to refresh themselves periodically. She seemed expectant, anticipating his mind-touch, so he reached one hand toward her face and placed it on her meld-points, concentrating intensely until he felt/saw her mind open to him. Most things he was able to deal with fairly easily, especially with the necessary knowledge from the Vulcan psychiatric Healers. But the memory of her ordeal at the hands of his bad half had such a tough barrier on it that even Spock was hard-pressed to break through. He was as gentle as possible but persistent, and eventually managed to breach it, taking the edge off and drawing it into himself in order to make it easier for Christine to deal with and put behind her.

Christine had hardly believed it possible, but felt a great easing of her fear and pain almost immediately, even having to fight a strong desire to throw herself into Spock's arms and let him do as he wished with her. She even sensed that a part of him wanted to do just that, but was holding back until the mind-meld had been completed and done its designated work. It also hardly seemed possible that an hour could pass so fast, but it did, and by the time Spock released her from the mind-meld and was released himself, she found that they were once again holding hands. Because of his Vulcan strength, she noted that his grip was firm but gentle in order not to injure her.

By this time it was one of her favorite Terran pieces, Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony, playing (and if truth be told, one of Spock's as well, although he didn't mention it to her at this point) … and she was stunned by the depth of feeling coming from him when he dropped his mental shields and looked deeply into her eyes, still holding her hands.

"Christine, I have …waited a long time for this moment. But now that it has arrived, there is something I must ask you."

"Yes, Spock?" she asked quietly, almost breathlessly.

"I … would like very much to … kiss you. May I do so?"

At the mere mention of what he wanted to do, Christine felt her heart rate speed up, but not from fear. It was almost as if her ordeal at the hands of his bad half had never happened and she was back to how she had been before the incident. Just the same, she intended to ask Spock about it and see if it would last or if it was a temporary thing. For the time being, though, all that mattered was his nearness and the note of tender passion in his velvet voice.

"Yes, Spock. I … have waited a long time for it myself."

The Vulcan could scarcely believe his ears, sure that what he had heard was a product of his wishful imagination, even as illogical as it was, rather than what she had truly said. "Do you mean that?"

"With all my heart," she returned feelingly.

Spock didn't need any more encouragement. Gently but firmly drawing her close to the warmth of his body and finding her lips seemingly by instinct, the pressure gentle at first but soon turning passionate. He still held back as best he could, not wanting to frighten her after all the time he had been forced to wait, but to his surprise and pleasure, it was Christine who reached to lock her arms around his neck and increase the pressure of his lips on hers. If he had believed in such a place as Heaven, the Vulcan would have been convinced that he and Christine had been instantaneously transported there … or in this case, the Vulcan equivalent. After a time he reluctantly tore his lips from hers to find the pulse racing in her soft, fragrant throat as his embrace tightened, once again seemingly unable to stop kissing her even as he fought not to allow his hands to explore her body further. Even as much as he wanted to, there was time enough for that next time around. It would seem an eternity until then, of course, but what mattered was that Christine was allowing him to be alone with her, to hold, touch and kiss her.

"Christine, Christine …"

"Spock … I love you, I love you …"

It was extremely difficult for both of them to break apart when the time came, but when the chrono announced that it was 2400 hours. "Damn," she muttered under her breath. "If only I didn't have an early shift …" Her voice trailed off, reflecting her displeasure.

"I know. So do I," he informed her regretfully. "May I share the midday meal with you?"

"If you like. I was thinking of having it around 1400."

"I will see you then." He made a mental note to make sure he was free at that time, whatever he had to do. "Would you like me to walk you to your quarters now?"

"Probably a good idea," she agreed.

He reluctantly released her, then stood up and assisted her to her feet. All the same, he slid an arm around her and refused to withdraw it, even when they left the Officers' Lounge. Fortunately it was late enough so that not too many would be likely to see them, and she frankly enjoyed having Spock's warmth and gentle strength close to her, more than she had ever enjoyed anything in her life. The mind-meld seemed to be accomplishing everything that the con-ventional psychotherapy hadn't. Certainly she had come much further in just the last week with Vulcan techniques than the entire time since her ordeal and the ordinary therapy had begun.

Upon reaching the turbolift, they stepped inside and Christine's head suddenly felt heavy and weary. Spock seemed to sense it and gently, silently encouraged her to rest it on his shoulder. It remained there until they reached the door to her quarters.

"Here we are. Sleep well, Christine. I will see you at 1400." He positively ached to kiss her again, but contented himself with a kiss on her hand.

She merely smiled and touched his cheek briefly before making herself turn to open her quarters door and step inside. She showered and readied a fresh uniform for her morning shift before retiring. All the same, her dreams were filled with tantalizing images of Spock and what they had done together, linger-ing on the time he had held her in his arms and kissed her. She had found herself wanting him to do much more, but sensed that he was holding back in order not to frighten her or make her feel like he was trying to rush her. All the same, she fully intended to discreetly let him know in every way she could that she was willing to go further than kisses in their next romantic encounter.

Her last waking thought was the looks which would likely be on everyone's faces—especially the Captain's, Nyota's and Leonard's should they happen to see her and Spock together, smiling and touching each other openly, seemingly unaware they were being watched. Frankly she could hardly wait and was hard- pressed to stay asleep long enough to do her any good, but fortunately she managed and got up when her chrono announced the time. Upon arrival at Sickbay, she smiled and greeted McCoy warmly, provoking a Spock-like raised eyebrow at her at her rapid turnaround but not elaborating on it, maintaining a businesslike demeanor for their entire shift together. He was stunned even further upon inviting her to have lunch with him and she turned him down, claiming she had already arranged to meet someone.

"Spock?" the Doctor inquired.

Christine merely nodded.

"Then may I assume that the mind-melds are going well?"

"Much better than I expected," Christine admitted. "All the same, Spock says that he intends for me to have the entire treatment in order to make sure I'm totally cured … or as totally cured as is possible for me under the circumstances."

The look in her eyes and the smile on her lips told McCoy that much more than the mind-meld had to have taken place, but he didn't ask further questions, just made a mental note to keep a discreet eye on the pair and see what turned up.


	17. Chapter 17

As it turned out, he only had to wait until the following day to find out. The Doctor had agreed to meet with Jim in the Officers' Mess around 1430 and have a late lunch. With any luck, the new lovers would still be there and doing something both unexpected and previously unheard-of, especially on Spock's part. And he was not disappointed. Kirk had not yet arrived when McCoy took their customary spot, but he ordered a Finagle's Folly and nursed it as long as he could, gazing around the large room for signs of his other two friends.

Near the window, which looked out over the ship's warp nacelles, leaning in the lower fare left corner, stretched out on the padded bench, was Christine … and what's more, Spock's dark head was in her lap and she was lovingly stroking it with one hand. He was holding the other one; their entwined hands were resting on his chest. He seemed to be almost asleep, and his harp was held in his free hand, its bottom resting on the deck. McCoy couldn't help wishing he could have been present to hear Spock play the harp. Wouldn't it have been something to have actually heard the Vulcan play a love song? The Doctor was sure he knew them, he just didn't generally play them—at least not in mixed company. But now that he and Christine had finally managed to mend fences, it was quite possible that he had already done so, if only so she could hear. The point was, he was doing it.

A short time later Kirk slid in across from him, placing his own drink before him. "Sorry I'm late, Bones. A bit of last-minute business. What're you looking at?"

"Take a gander at the window." Kirk's eyes widened upon spotting the romantic couple lounging there.

"Oh, my God. How long have they been there?"

"I don't know. I would assume at least half an hour, since he's got his harp with him. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me a bit if he's played love songs for her before we got here."

"Do you think they've … gotten together yet?"

"As I said, I have no idea—but it would be great if they have. The way Spock's acting, though, it wouldn't surprise me. You know it's not every day that he would allow himself to do what he's doing, especially not in public where every-one can see."

"Maybe he's waited long enough so that he no longer cares if anyone sees. All that matters to him is being able to do it and having Christine willing to accommodate him."

"Maybe," the CMO returned dubiously. "We'll just have to wait and see. For the moment, let's just leave our lovebirds alone and have our meal. What do you want?"

After Kirk told him, the Doctor went and ordered the meals, then brought them back to the table and they dug in. A short time later, after they were finished, Kirk snuck a look at the window; Spock and Christine had gone.

"Bones, they're gone. I wonder when they left?"

McCoy simply shrugged and returned to his meal, as did Kirk. All the same, the Captain smiled wickedly to himself, imagining where the couple must have gone and what they had to be doing. But for the moment, it was best to just take his friend's advice and leave the lovers to their own devices, allow them to make up for lost time—and they had a lot of it, so it would take longer than overnight for them to manage it. But at least now there was a chance for them to share a life together. The mind-melds would have to be going extremely well for both of them to be so open in showing their feelings, but he knew it wouldn't be a good idea to approach them now. Tomorrow would probably be a better time.

* * * * *

As indeed it was, especially considering what they had heard happened that previous night after Spock and Christine had left the Officers' Lounge. Uhura had reported seeing a radiant Christine leaving Spock's quarters in the early morning hours to return to her own. What's more, she had once spotted them kissing passionately and Spock's hands moving deliciously over her body—and vice versa—some hours before, just inside his quarters doors, before the doors closed and locked after he had swept her into his arms, holding a kiss. Upon hearing the privacy lock engage, Uhura went on to her own quarters, but couldn't help a twinge of envy. What she would give for that to happen between herself and the Captain, no-fraternization rule notwithstanding. After all, Chris and Spock were doing it, and he was not only a non-emotional Vulcan but a stickler for following rules to the letter. If they could do it, why not her and the Captain … or Jim, as she thought of him in her most private memories?

Behind her almost stiff façade of professionalism, Nyota Uhura was harboring a deep, tenderly passionate love for her commanding officer which rivaled that of Christine for Spock. As career-minded as they both were, why wouldn't a romance between _them_ work? That is, if they could ever get past the no-frater-nization thing. But even if they did, how would she ever manage to approach him and confess her feelings? On the other hand, Jim had had so many women, so many romances. How could she possibly expect to stand out among them? Uhura stiffened her back and squared her shoulders. Enough of this foolishness. It was time for her to find Dr. McCoy and tell him what she had witnessed. He could then tell the Captain about Chris and Spock if he so wished. She wasn't about to betray two of her closest friends by doing it herself.

But even if the Doctor did tell the Captain, they were no more likely to blab the news around than she was. After all, they had to work with Spock and Christine. If that happened and they found out, there'd be big-time trouble and life aboard ship would scarcely be worth living. Just wasn't worth the risk. It might also be a good idea to suggest that one of them approach Spock and/or Christine to find out just how the mind-melds were going. If last night was any indication, they had to be going _extremely_ well, to say the least, and her friends making up for lost time with a vengeance.


	18. Chapter 18

Shortly after Uhura got off-duty, she sought out McCoy and found him having dinner in the Officers' Lounge. She got herself a tray and decided to join him. He raised his head, eyes widening in surprise when she asked to join him. "I need to talk to you privately."

"Of course, dear. But wouldn't it be better to do it in my office, where we would have more privacy?"

"No, I need to be in a place where I feel relaxed, and that's right here," she insisted. "This booth is secluded and there's not too many people around; we wouldn't be overheard."

"If you say so. What's on your mind?"

"I saw something very interesting last night," Uhura confessed.

"Such as?" the Doctor prompted.

"Spock and Chris. Locked in a passionate embrace and kiss just inside his quarters door. The door closing and the privacy lock engaging. What's more, Chris coming out of the quarters early the next morning, almost literally walking on air and as radiant as I've ever seen her."

The CMO was stunned speechless for a while, then smiled knowingly. "Had a feeling something like that would happen. After all, one doesn't see something like that very often—especially not with Spock as one of the participants." With that, McCoy took a drink of his mint julep and told her what he and Jim had seen in the Officers' Lounge the previous day, not long after they'd all gotten off-duty.

"It would seem that our stoic First Officer and Assistant CMO have actually become embroiled in a full-fledged love affair," McCoy remarked shortly after taking a few bites of his food. "I wonder if they realize just how obvious they're being? I somehow doubt it, considering what Jim and I, and now you, saw them doing."

"Whoever thought the mind-melds could possibly work that well?" Uhura took a bite of her own food and a swallow of her own drink before speaking again.

"Certainly not me, but what matters is that they are," McCoy replied. "Of course, it's probably only a matter of time until Spock realizes that and decides to put the relationship under wraps again. Unfortunately, it's already too late. Basically the whole ship knows by now. Luckily for him, nothing fazes him, and Christine is a past mistress of the art of freezing with her eyes anyone who asks too many nosy questions."

"What do you think he intends to do?" Uhura wondered.

"Couldn't say," McCoy returned. "But whatever happens, it won't surprise me. Whatever their other faults, Vulcans aren't ones for casual relationships. If Spock is allowing himself to do such things in public, he's got to be very serious about Christine—every bit as serious as she is about him. If that's the case, more power to 'em. It's just what they need to loosen up … especially Spock. Whatever makes him act more Human." After a time, McCoy realized that Uhura had not spoken for a long time and asked her why.

"Just thinking what a second Vulcan/Human marriage in the same family will be like. Amanda's bound to be pleased as punch, but Sarek … He probably expected Spock to marry someone else entirely, not follow in his footsteps and marry a Human. On the other hand, Spock has emulated his father in so many other things, so why not that too?"

McCoy frowned thoughtfully as he finished his food and drink. "Entirely possible. Anything else on your mind?"

Even as much as Uhura wanted to bare her soul and confess her feelings for the Captain … Jim … she knew she didn't dare. Not just yet. Surely the Doctor suspected that something more than concern for two of her closest friends beginning a passionate romance had brought her to him, but he wasn't about to try to force it out of her. If she got desperate enough, she would come to him of her own free will. Until then, he would bide his time, play at least a fairly silent waiting game.

* * * * *

Ironically, it was something she'd overheard Spock and Christine saying over a supposedly private conversation on the Rec Deck while he was playing his harp for her and she was doing her favorite off-duty pastime, drawing, that prompted Uhura to confess her feelings to Jim. This time, it was one of Spock playing his harp, and although she wouldn't tell him just what it was she was drawing, he suspected that very thing. The best he could get out of her was a promise that she would show it to him once she finished it. For the time being, however, it would be appreciated if he would just drop the subject. He raised an eyebrow and frowned at her, but no further mention was made of the subject—at least at this point in time.

"If you will not discuss the drawing, may I ask if you are willing to discuss what Jim confessed to us last night—that he has fallen in love?"

"I suppose so," Christine replied, erasing a mistake she had made in her drawing and then fixing it before looking up to face the man she loved. "And I can't be surprised that the object of his affections is someone aboard ship—specifically, someone who even works with the two of you on the Bridge. Of course, she's so career-minded that who can be sure if she's even noticed?"

There weren't too many women on the Bridge other than Uhura herself except for the occasional Yeoman, but Kirk was such a ladies' man that the Communications Officer couldn't be sure it was herself they were referring to. She knew all too well that Janice Rand made no secret of her attraction to their young, handsome (and single!) Commanding Officer. What's more, she was the Captain's Yeoman, so other than Uhura herself, Janice was the one woman who spent the most time with him—if only on business.

"If Yeoman Rand has her way, the other woman is unlikely to ever know of his feelings for her—especially if someone doesn't tell her … and soon, so she can take the proper action!"

"I am not experienced in romantic matters, Christine, so I believe it best for you to approach the lady on the subject since you are her closest friend."

"Even at that, she takes a very dim view of anyone butting into her private life. She may not believe me, for one thing, and convince herself that I'm simply telling her what she wants to hear rather than the truth."

"But you have never lied to her as far as I am aware," Spock countered, looking up to meet Christine's smoky blue eyes with his soft, warm sable-brown ones. He didn't smile, at least not with his lips, but it was there in those incredible eyes. Christine, loving him as she did, was unable to resist them. "And it is only logical that we assist our friends in any way possible to the kind of happiness we ourselves share."

"Why, Spock, how emotional of you," Christine returned wickedly. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. If it'll make you feel better, I'll get in touch with her and tell her, not to mention strongly suggest that she take action regarding the Captain before Yeoman Rand does. Which reminds me, I'd better get to bed. Will I see you later tonight?"

"Most assuredly." He gave her another look of tender passion with his incredible eyes. "Meanwhile, I suggest you contact our mutual friend and steer her in the right direction."

"Don't worry, I will." A moment later Spock set down his harp and drew Chris-tine into his arms for a lingering kiss. It lasted so long that Uhura was sure that they would soon need to come up for air. Roughly thirty seconds later, he reluctantly released her and she left the room—but fortunately Uhura had done so just barely ahead of her so she was only a short distance down the corrirod before she heard Christine call to her. "Nyota, wait up! I need to talk to you."

* * * * *

A short time later the two women were headed in the general direction of Uhura's quarters and upon entering, dropped their businesslike façade once the doors were closed behind them and acted out of pure friendship. It was fortunate for Christine that she had time to talk turkey before meeting Spock for their rendezvous, but even at that knew she couldn't afford to waste any more time or take No for an answer. Not if she was going to do her friend any good in regards to winning the man she loved.

Within the next quarter-hour, after they had settled down with drinks and snacks. Having removed their boots and sitting on Uhura's bed, Christine kept her promise to Spock and began informing Uhura of Rand's campaign and helping her friend form her own—especially after somehow managing to convince her that she was the one Kirk actually wanted but if she didn't move soon, he would end up with Rand. And despite Uhura's initial hesitation, she knew she could wait no longer to make her feelings known. In fact, she would start the next day, as soon as she saw Jim, and keep it up as long as necessary, whatever she had to do, until he was under no illusions whatsoever that she wanted him and would not abide his going for anyone else.


	19. Chapter 19

James Kirk was unable to put his finger on just what it was about Uhura that had changed, but he knew that something had. She actually seemed more receptive to him than she usually was. Not that they hadn't always shared an amiable relationship, but now it appeared that she had far more than a work-ing relationship in mind. Had she been alerted to his growing feelings for her? Was that the reason for the change in her? He knew he had confessed to Spock how he was beginning to feel for his lovely African Communications Officer, and that the latter was close friends with Christine. Had the Vulcan told her of his feelings and directed her to alert Uhura? That seemed to be the case, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her directly. For a Vulcan to betray a confidence was the height of disloyalty to a friend or superior, although Spock had been known to do illogical things in the name of logic.

Whatever the case, what mattered was that Uhura seemed far more approachable than she usually was and that encouraged him to act on his attraction and ask her to that night's concert, which included some music from her home country of Kenya … and done in Swahili, no less! Maybe he would even ask her what it meant, if only to impress her with his wish to know more about her background. Not that her nationality and birthplace couldn't be looked up in her Personnel file, but he wanted to eventually learn things about her that one didn't generally include in a Personnel file.

"Yes, sir, I'd be honored to accompany you."

Uhura smiled radiantly at him, prompting his heartbeat to increase markedly. Why had he not noticed what a soft, velvety brown her eyes were, how lovely her smile—not to mention the rest of her? And her voice was like the music of her homeland … melodic and soft, so sweetly feminine that it brought out the innate masculinity inherent in every man but which seemed to be present in far greater quantities in males such as himself.

"Great. I'll pick you up at your quarters at 1830. The concert's supposed to go about two hours. After that, we can maybe get a bite in the Officers' Lounge. What would you say to that?"

"Sounds great. I'll see you then."

Uhura gave him another delicious smile and turned back to her work, both of them oblivious to the icy blue glare of Janice Rand watching the whole thing from halfway across the Bridge. Who could have alerted Uhura to the Captain's feelings for her? If her suspicions were correct, there wasn't much she could do because even as well as Christine got along with her, she got along better with Uhura and would be more likely to help her than herself.

Since Christine had managed to land Spock, Janice had taken that as a good omen as to her own chances with the Captain. But now the proverbial monkey wrench had been thrown into her plans. If she didn't nip this in the bud, and soon, he would likely be lost to her forever and she knew who she would hold responsible for the destruction of her dreams. It was then that Janice made plans to attend that concert herself and sit as near them as possible and do a little monkey-wrench throwing of her own. She could not have said just what that would involve, of course, but intended to do some hard thinking in between now and then. And if she could manage it, she would make sure there would be no more outside interference, whatever she had to do.

* * * * *

However, it seemed that everything Janice did was doomed to failure—and what was worse, she saw neither of the two whom she suspected had orchestrated her failure to gain the attention of the object of her affections. She had arranged her hair, worn her sexiest perfume and most clingy outfit which outlined every curve of her body, most prominently her slender waist, full hips and even fuller bosom. But for all the notice he took of her, she might as well have been invisible. Even at that, she didn't intend to give up without a fight. Just the same, she happened to see the couple at Uhura's door later that evening and ducked behind the corner nearest it before the pair in question saw her. They had started out at the concert holding hands and speaking animatedly, most likely about the African portion of same … but it didn't stop there. Rather, by the end of the concert, she was incensed to notice that Jim had slid his arm around Uhura's waist. She had then entwined the fingers of her left hand with his, sighing contentedly and resting her head on his nearest shoulder.

But despite their not having been present, Spock and Christine had told some subordinates who were going to the concert to report the developments between the Captain and Nyota. They were well pleased when said subordinates reported what Kirk had done at the concert, then after it when he had walked her to her quarters. He had lingered at the door with her until he was sure they were alone, then bent down and gave her a lingering kiss. So lingering, in fact, they they had to eventually break it off in order to breathe. Best of all, he had whispered something in her ear which made her smile radiantly and nod. One of the subordinates said that she believed the Captain had asked Uhura out again, and both Spock and Christine had to agree that it certainly looked that way …but only time would tell.

* * * * *

Shortly after this, Spock finally had the presence of mind to send a stargram to his mother, who was thrilled about his new-found intimacy with Christine and what they were trying to do in the way of bringing Jim and Uhura together. Ordinarily Spock would have informed his mother immediately, but at the time he considered it more appropriate (or as he would say, logical) to make up for lost time with Christine—and so they did, with a vengeance. What was more, he was able to say with a fair amount of certainty that Jim and Uhura were becoming closer by the day, although they still maintained a professional demeanor while on duty. Off-duty was another matter. Several times, in fact, the two couples had "double-dated" and had a songfest in either one of their quarters or on the Rec Deck with Spock and/or Uhura playing the Vulcan harp and the latter singing, sometimes even having the others join in.

Fortunately for Janice, she had begun to look elsewhere. Rarely did a day go by that they didn't see her with either an Ensign from Engineering or a Lieutenant from Sciences or Medical. Especially once she realized that there wasn't anything she could do to break Kirk and Uhura up, especially not with the help they had had. It was good that she had finally gotten the message—or so she claimed—although there were still occasions that she had been caught giving wistful looks in the Captain's direction.

As it turned out, however, Janice eventually decided to transfer off the ship after about a month or so of this, stating as her official reason for leaving her wish to "further my career elsewhere," although both Spock and Christine suspected that she still had feelings for Kirk in spite of it all but knew she had no chance with him, unable to fight either Uhura's charms or the combined efforts of Spock and Christine. Naturally all wished her well in spite of it all, and once she was gone, the ship's grapevine buzzed with speculation as to who was likely to get married first—Spock and Christine or the Captain and Uhura.

If you had asked the couples involved, neither could have said, although one thing they did know was that now that they were together, they intended to stay together. If they eventually married, fine; if they didn't, that was the fortunes of war. What mattered was that they were together … and all would go through whatever was necessary to remain so. Spock and Christine already had, big-time, and wanted to make sure to spare their friends the same type of hardship they had endured for the last several months, both emotional and physical. Not to mention see to it that their friends had as much happiness and good fortune in their lives as was Humanly possible for as long as possible …for now and all time.


End file.
